


The Torn Earth

by jenniferdeb



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Immortality, Modern Era, Reincarnation, True Love, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 211,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferdeb/pseuds/jenniferdeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a reincarnation story set in 2020. Merlin's long wait for Arthur is finally over, but why has fate decreed that Arthur should return now? The world has been in greater danger than at present. Yet there is evil lurking in troubled waters and, thankfully, the friends begin to discover that Arthur is not the only one to return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rumbles

**Author's Note:**

> I thought long and hard before posting this story as it's been quite a while since the show aired, but lately I've noticed readers are still finding my other story, so I decided to post. 
> 
> This is set in modern times and follows from the finale of the show and not from my earlier story, The Strength of Friendship. It's important to remember that, or you may find yourself getting confused. I know I did when I started writing.
> 
> This story is finished, so I'll be posting every week on a regular basis. I do hope you enjoy.
> 
> I don't own Merlin and have only borrowed the characters for my pleasure and I hope for the readers' enjoyment.

Chapter One

Rumbles

Merlin Emrys was One thousand five hundred and seven years old, though it had to be said he looked more like a young man in his mid twenties and, for the sake of his sanity and security, had adopted the name Rhys Wilson at the present time.

To be honest, he had lived many life-times since the day he'd been born in the middle of the sixth century and he had let himself age many times over. Well, it would be more exact to say that he had used many ageing spells throughout the centuries because Merlin was unique among the mortals with whom he lived his daily life in the sense that he was immortal. 

On the other hand, Arthur Penderel had just passed his twenty-seventh birthday, was the son of a rich and very influential family who owned a global conglomerate and was the epitome of the saying 'born with a silver spoon in his mouth', although perhaps in his case, the spoon was more likely platinum studded with diamonds.

At this moment in time, Arthur was carrying out a special assignment for his father who had sent him north to Scotland to a place he'd never visited; a place he'd never heard of, if the truth were told. He was headed for a tiny island off the west coast of Argyll called Easdale where a very strange phenomenon was happening which was being reported in the local newspaper as being the result of one of Camelot Industries' latest developments. 

He'd flown straight to Glasgow where he'd appropriated one of the company helicopters to fly him directly to the spot. Only he'd been informed that wouldn't be possible as, due to some local bye-laws, no aircraft of any kind was allowed to land on the island. The nearest he could touch down was in the car park on Seil and take the ferry, which he now discovered was little more than an open boat with a large outboard motor.

He really had to lay down the law to his PA and support team to do their research better in future. Had he known he'd be squeezed into a small passenger ferry between a few German tourists, a couple of untidy backpackers and a local middle-aged lady with a number of bags full of groceries and a muddy dog, he'd have made sure he'd arrived in one of the company's motor launches.

However, it was too late now and he did have a job to do which involved him meeting up with a geologist called Rhys Wilson, who seemingly worked for him, or Camelot Industries to be more precise. 

Thankfully, the journey was only a few minutes' duration and he was soon dusting himself down at the head of the jetty, surveying the surrounding island as he did so. He wandered up the track to look around, passing a more modern building which seemed to be the village hall with a small cafe next door that incorporated a pub. At the head of the track was the village itself, though in truth there wasn't much to see, only a number of fairly old cottages surrounding a grassy square, while a sign proudly pointed across the grass to Easdale Folk Museum. But there definitely wasn't any sign of anyone waiting to welcome him. 

Which there should have been if Gwen had done her job as his PA properly... and yet he knew he shouldn't complain. Gwen did her very best to keep him organized, he just wasn't the type of person who liked to conform. 

For instance, while he'd been enjoying sunning himself on his yacht in Monaco in anticipation of the Formula 1 Grand-Prix, he'd received an urgent phone call from his father's secretary telling him to get his butt back home ASAP to deal with a looming problem in Scotland. The very fact that it was Katrina who'd spoken to him personally told him this could be something catastrophic. Though extremely miffed to miss the actual race weekend, he'd emailed Gwen telling her to find out as much as possible about this Easdale place and what the problem might be, while he'd flown back to Britain on the first available flight. Thank goodness they'd had a seat in First Class; he didn't do economy well. Yet even economy was luxury compared to this little godforsaken island. 

Now where was this Rhys guy? He twisted and turned in the centre of the square, noticing a number of tracks leading in different directions. What the hell? There were no roads on this island, just muddy dirt tracks. He turned up the collar of the rain jacket which had been handed to him by one of the helicopter crew. He'd heard about the amount of rain this part of the UK was subject too, but he hadn't expected it to be so cold. This was summer! 

Not too many hours ago he'd been relaxed and warm, entertaining members of the top racing car world, corporate acquaintances and various socialites. Landing in a damp dreary scrap of an island whose lowering skies looked like they were about to drop a ton of water on him was not his idea of fun.

Yet even Arthur admitted he had to work, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, he was skilled at troubleshooting for his father and for Camelot, knowing instinctively when to cajole, or in some parts of the world bribe, and occasionally employ the use of less than gentle persuasion to get the job done. So far, he hadn't come across a problem he hadn't been able to solve.

He might as well get on with sorting out this current complication and the sooner the better. If this boffin wasn't willing to come to him, then he'd better seek him out; after all, there weren't exactly many places he could be hiding out on this tiny isle and he did know the trouble concerned the flooded slate quarries which were dotted around Easdale.

So, which way to go, right or left? Though it probably didn't matter too much, the tracks presumably went all the way round the place. He struck off to the right certain he'd find this Wilson pretty quickly, his boots sinking into the soggy ground as he marched - thank goodness he'd changed his footwear on the helicopter too - and no doubt he'd find the problem was something simple. After all, Camelot Industries didn't have any installations anywhere near this part of Scotland. These scientific guys were always dreaming up weird connotations which very often proved to be more fantasy than fact. 

And this Rhys Wilson was a new employee who might prove to be even more of a freak than normal. He'd had Gwen research him too and it turned out he was younger than most of the scientists his father usually employed... a bit of a whiz-kid who'd aced his Graduate PHDs in a couple of subjects which was more than anyone had a right to at the tender age of twenty-five. With his Geology and Archaeology degree, he'd managed to fit in one on ancient British history. Arthur was definitely on his way to meet up with a nerd!

He shrugged his shoulders, admitting that he was a bit of a nerd himself... on the quiet. Alongside his Business and Economics degree, he'd dabbled a bit in ancient history too. What could people expect when he was named Arthur Penderel, his mother's name was Ygraine and he had a great-grandfather who'd begun the family's fortunes after the Great War by selling coal door-to-door in South Wales and called it Camelot Coal?

Even his father was proud of the similarities, and although he wasn't called Uther, thankfully, he did name his son Arthur, thinking it a strange coincidence that the woman he'd fallen in love with and married was called Ygraine.

Hell, there were analogies in Arthur's own life too, though they were more of a stretch. They'd begun in university when he'd made friends with a pretty female student called Gwen. He remembered how they'd met in a cafe where Gwen had knocked his coffee all over him, which hadn't exactly been her fault as she'd been jolted from behind by some crazy kids. The poor girl had been so embarrassed she'd insisted on buying him a replacement drink and offering to pay for having his clothes laundered. The coffee he'd accepted but the cleaning he'd turned down, pointing out that his clothes would be just fine after he'd stuck them in the washing machine, which he was perfectly capable of doing by himself, pampered rich boy or not. 

They'd had coffee together and Arthur discovered he enjoyed the company of a girl who didn't seem to recognise who he was and wasn't trying to jump his bones. He remembered how she'd laughed when he'd asked her if Gwen was short for Guinevere, and had only been a little disappointed to learn that Gwen wasn't short for anything... she was just Gwen.

Over time and with an ease which made it hardly noticeable, Gwen had slotted into his life as a friend and confidante, so much so that when they'd both finally finished their studies, he'd offered her the job as his Personal Assistant. A role which neither had ever regretted, though he did tend to take Gwen for granted on occasion.

Something which right now he promised himself he would never do again, as he ploughed on through the rain which had started to fall in earnest. He just hoped that his Girl Friday would show up very quickly with his luggage, his research and, hopefully, reservations at the classiest hotel in this area.

The curtain of rain obscured his view but, as he rounded a corner in the track, he heard sounds of voices from up ahead, though eerily muffled by the atrocious weather. He wiped the raindrops from his eyes and peered into the enveloping murk. 

There was definitely a small group of people up ahead, who appeared to be staring at something very interesting at their feet. Something so compelling that they didn't notice him approach, though he was making enough noise squelching and cursing his way through the deep mire to alert all but the dead, or perhaps the rain had suppressed the noise he was making, even when he hailed them. He tried again.

“Hello there! Is any one of you Rhys Wilson? Any of you from Camelot Industries?”

He was practically at their side when he noticed the red rain proof suits they were wearing bore the dragon logo of Camelot. He was about to shout louder, when he observed what was holding their attention...

There was a deep, dark pool on the very fringe of the island, its edges almost everywhere carved from sharp sheer rock, or slate as he later discovered, and almost open to the sea except for a thin stretch of the same black jagged rock. Its surface was ruffled, roiling. Perhaps caused by the rain and the wind, but Arthur soon dismissed that source. Whatever was making the water boil, for that was exactly what it appeared to be doing, was coming from deep below the surface.

Arthur couldn't help but move forward, feeling drawn to the mysterious bubbling water like a magnet. Soon he was standing on the very rim of the tarn. A hand reached out to stop him.

“Hey, watch out what you're doing! One misstep and you're right in there.” The head belonging to the hand nodded towards the turbulent pool.

Arthur Penderel stared down at the hand then up to the face within a hood, pulled tight around a thin face to keep out the rain. He pulled his arm out of the man's grasp. “Leave me be!” he demanded, though he did take one step back. “Who are you?”

The young man stared at the new arrival who, it had to be said, looked very unhappy to be here. “I'm Rhys Wilson... and you?” he asked with a friendly grin, though he had a good idea who he was addressing. He'd seen the guy's pictures in one of the quarterly journals Camelot issued to its work force, not to mention the odd gossip column in the tabloids.

“Arthur Penderel.” The answer came back sharply and was almost torn away by the rising gale. “I'm supposed to meet you and deal with the problem you've discovered,” Arthur shouted to make himself heard above the screeching wind.

“Well, unless you're better than King Canute I'm not sure what you can do,” Merlin answered, a cheeky grin spreading across his features for which he received a dirty glance.

“And this is the trouble? The water boiling like that?” He pointed at the large pond as the effect spread until the whole surface seemed to blister and bubble. “Isn't it just this hellish weather?” But even as Arthur spoke, he already knew this wasn't the reason.

“No!” Wilson too raised his voice. “The weather might be dire, but that's coming from beneath the surface, probably bubbling up from beneath the rock bed.”

“Is it volcanic?” Arthur drew on everything he'd learned on the subject of geophysics, which wasn't much. 

“Not for millions of years... and not exactly in this spot. A bit further north and west.”

Arthur shrugged inside his ill-fitting rain jacket, feeling water trickle from his hair to run down his back. “Have you any ideas what's happening... and why it has anything to do with Camelot Industries?”

The younger man considered his answer for a moment or two before replying. “Not at the moment. Isn't that what we're here to find out?” Rhys looked up at the sky. “Not sure there's much we can do in this rain, and I'm going to need quite a lot of equipment, which is what I thought you'd provide.”

“Hey, I just got here. Yesterday I was in Monte Carlo with no idea this was happening.” Arthur tried to ruffle his hair which was plastered to his skull due to the damp, but gave up on the attempt to make any running repairs. “Talk to me, and if you can convince me this is our responsibility, I'll see you have everything you need.”

Suddenly, not only the water was affected. With a rumbling which came from deep underground, the muddy earth moved. Arthur, who was standing nearest to the edge of the bank, had no time to react as a large amount of soil fell away into the water, taking him with it. He slipped sideways, cracking his head on a protruding rock and disappeared below the heaving water.

For moments, the other members of the group froze, all except Rhys who'd made an unsuccessful grab for his employer. But he wasn't about to give up. Shouting to the people behind him to be ready to fish them out, he stripped off his rain gear and dove into the lochan.

Knowing there was little chance of actually seeing Arthur in such dark, turbulent water, he spread his limbs around as far as possible as he swam underwater, remembering a time in Arthur's first life when he'd narrowly missed saving his prince and friend: the time Sophia Tiamor of the Sidhe had enchanted the prince and tried to drown him in her bid to cross through The Gates of Avalon. He couldn't lose Arthur so soon in this life! 

His search became more frantic and he reached out with his senses as well as his arms and was thankful when his left hand connected with a solid object. Instinctively, he grabbed a handful of cloth, relieved to feel an actual arm within his grip. Pulling the inert body into his arms, he kicked his legs and headed upwards, following the flow of the bubbles. When he broke the surface of the water, he was happy to see he was close to the edge and a number of people were waiting to help him and an unconscious Penderel ashore.

As Merlin stood, he handed his boss over to his work colleagues, clawing his own way to the path which now seemed to be quite steady and still. The tremor had lasted only a few moments yet it had potentially created a huge emergency... the loss of Arthur Penderel. 

Someone handed him a couple of handkerchiefs that were the only items available to dry himself with, which was pretty pointless anyway because the rain was still pouring down. He began to shiver and Will, another member of the team, threw his discarded jacket over his shoulders, but Rhys hardly noticed. He was too intent on watching the first-aider attempting to empty Arthur's lungs of water. They all stared, transfixed. There was no doubt in each of their minds that Benedict Penderel would be incandescent with rage if his son actually drowned in a tiny loch on a small and undistinguished island in Scotland. 

But just as abruptly, Arthur was coughing up the contents of his lungs... and some of his stomach. The woman who'd administered first aid placed him into the recovery position, before standing back to allow Rhys to crouch by the prone man's side.

“Arthur?” Rhys said, quietly but with some urgency. There was no reply. Perhaps he was suffering from shock. He would certainly be suffering from hypothermia if they didn't get him somewhere warm. Rhys turned back to the others, who were really under his control. “Will, run to the nearest house and let them know what's happened here. We need to know how to get Mr Penderel off the island in an emergency and to a hospital. He hit his head when he fell. He might have a concussion... besides inhaling quite a lot of water.” Rhys bit at his lip, once more searching Arthur's so familiar face for signs of consciousness.

“Arthur! Come on, prat,” he said so low no one else would hear and was rewarded when Arthur rolled onto his back, coughing again while drops of water sprayed out of his mouth. His eyes blinked open but were unfocussed, which wasn't surprising since he'd almost drowned.

From his position on the ground, Arthur saw a face hanging over him, close... but not threateningly close, he felt. In fact, the smile on the face was somewhat familiar... comforting. He was wet, very wet and cold but so was the idiot, from the looks of it. 

Plus, Arthur had a pounding headache. He tried to sit up only to find he had little strength, so he lay still, staring at his companion. Finally, his voice seemed to work again.

“Merlin, what the hell just happened?”

 

*****

 

Thankfully, Arthur had seemed cognizant enough to understand Merlin's desperate expression as he told his employer that his name was Rhys... Rhys Wilson, a geologist working for Camelot Industries and had lain quietly on the ground waiting for a quad-bike with a flat trailer which had appeared, driven by one of the locals. 

It had taken little time for the injured man to be loaded on-board and escorted to one of the nearest and largest houses on the island where Rhys had stripped him of his wet clothes and he'd been put to bed. The elderly lady who owned the house told them that the flying ambulance had been called and Mr Penderel would be taken to Oban General Hospital for a full check up. Emergency aircraft were given special dispensation to land.

While there were others present, Arthur had remained almost in a state of unconsciousness, but the moment the door closed and he was left alone with Merlin, he sat up, only to find that wasn't quite as easy as he expected. His head swum dizzyingly and he had to fight the sensation of nausea.

“How are you feeling?” Rhys asked, almost afraid to talk. Could Arthur really have remembered his old life so quickly?

“Like I've almost been drowned... and did I bang my head or something, because I have a raging headache?” Arthur finally managed to push himself up on the pillow, but he let his head fall back and pressed a hand to his skull. “Mind you, maybe the headache comes from realising I've been here before. Not here, exactly, but I'm sure you know what I mean,” he finished, his hand leaving his head and waving generally around the room.

“I'm not sure I do know what you're talking about,” Rhys said evasively, approaching the bed. He'd been waiting centuries for his friend to return, but now it all seemed too easy. Surely Arthur would be more doubting of reincarnation. After all, they hadn't had much time to consider the process when he'd been dying. The two of them had spent most of their time on the journey to Avalon discussing the fact Merlin had magic. Would Arthur remember he had magic?

“Merlin, don't pretend to be stupid! We're talking about The Once and Future King. I remember you mentioned that a few times back in Camelot, though I never knew quite what it meant then.”

“Well, as far as I know, you're not a king, so I guess it's irrelevant,” Rhys stated, sitting in a chair and leafing through a magazine about things to do in Argyll & Bute.

Arthur leaned over and knocked the publication out of Merlin's hands. “Merlin, I really do have a headache and I can't remember ever being so cold in my life, so stop pretending you've never met me before when you know very well we spent ten years of our lives together in Camelot over a thousand years ago.”

“One thousand four hundred and forty-five to be precise...”

“What?” For the first time since he'd wakened up after his accident Arthur looked confused.

“Years! We met one thousand...”

“Right! I didn't realize you were counting.”

The increasingly loud sounds of rotor-blades turning cut into their conversation and there was a knock at the door followed by the lady home-owner entering the room. She had a kind face as she regarded her unusual visitors with some anxiety and introduced herself as Fiona MacDougall.

“The air-ambulance is about to land. They'll be here shortly to take you to hospital... and it's a pity they've come so soon since I've just made you both a cup of hot tea,” she went on with an apologetic smile, looking strangely unhappy that she would lose her guests quite so quickly.

“Thank you, Mrs MacDougall,” Arthur answered with a smile of his own. His head might be aching and he was dealing with the almost unbelievable fact that he was reunited with his best friend from the dark ages, but a Penderel never forgot to be polite to a lady, particularly one who had offered him such hospitality. “And I'd really love that tea, if it's not too much trouble. I'm sure we have time to drink it before they arrive.”

“I'm sure you will,” she complied, blushing slightly at the handsome young man who was occupying her spare bedroom, if only for a short time. She left the room and was back in a trice with two large mugs of steaming liquid. “I don't know if you take sugar, but I thought after your ducking, you could probably do with a shot of energy. Don't tell the doctors but there's a little shot of something else in there too... for medicinal purposes only, of course.”

There was a knock at the outside door, and Fiona disappeared again to see if the medics had arrived.

“I'm not sure you should be drinking that if it has whisky in it... not when you might have a concussion,” Merlin said wisely.

“Merlin, shut up and drink up,” Arthur replied after taking a sip. “It's delicious and it's warming me up.”

Merlin did as he was told, then sat up suddenly. “And don't call me Merlin. In this life, I'm Rhys Wilson. Keep calling me Merlin and the doctors will think you're suffering from hallucinations from that knock on the head!” 

“Ah, so it is true.”

“Yes, but we can't talk about it now.”

There was a noise from the hallway and very soon the sounds of conversation preceded the medics arrival. 

“Later,” Arthur hissed while handing Merlin his mug and sliding down the bed again, as the men in green uniforms came and stood by his side.

“We hear you two decided to go swimming in the quarry,” said the first man, cheerily, while setting his case on the chair Rhys had vacated. “Not a good idea in this weather. I'm surprised you didn't drown.”

“He fell in... and I jumped into save him,” Merlin said, unwilling to take the blame for the untimely dip.

“Right. I'm Joe and this is Davy,” the medic said with a friendly grin and pointed to his partner. “That means we have to take both of you in for a check up. We'll just run a few tests first before we get you loaded on the helicopter. Davy, can you go and arrange for a stretcher.” 

“I don't think you need the stretcher,” Arthur announced, sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. “I'm pretty sure I can walk.”

“Not so fast, Mr Penderel.” 

Rhys watched Joe push Arthur back on the bed and was prepared for a truculent outburst from his boss. However, he was surprised when Arthur subsided without an objection.

“You're with the exploration team at the quarry, I hear,” Joe continued in his hearty manner. “Now, I don't know a thing about what you lot are doing there, but I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job, so you just lie there and let me do mine. Mrs MacDougall tells me you were unconscious when you were brought in, so that means we use the stretcher. Head wounds can be very tricky, though the results don't always show up immediately.”

Seeing Arthur nod to the medic without any objections astounded Rhys. Either, this Arthur had changed, or he really was hurt. He certainly grimaced in pain as Joe began his checks. The medical team were thorough and competent and very shortly, Arthur was being loaded into the 'copter on the stretcher, with an oxygen mask over his mouth and as Rhys went to follow him, he was surprised by a hand touching his shoulder to hold him back. He turned to see Mrs MacDougall regarding him pointedly but with a great deal of warmth.

“Don't worry about him. He'll be fine... but both of you come back here. Oh, I know you'll be back at the quarry, but I mean come back to visit me,” she whispered, leaning toward his ear. “I understand everything!” 

And as Merlin climbed inside and the door shut, he glanced out the window to see Will and all his team, standing drenched in the rain, watching their departure. A little to the left, separate from the group, Fiona MacDougall stood, grey-peppered hair tied back in a plait, her eyes twinkling as she smiled enigmatically.

Merlin's mouth dropped open for there could be no mistake... Fiona MacDougall was none other than Alice!

 

*****


	2. Another Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there is some telepathic conversations and they are shown :-
> 
> ~ .... ~
> 
> Please enjoy

Chapter Two

Another Friendship

 

Rhys paced nervously back and forth in the reception area of the hospital, clutching his ruined clothes in a plastic bag. He'd been given second-hand clothes to wear, and more importantly, a clean bill of health by the Accident and Emergency staff, which was quite surprising for someone of his advanced years. He shrugged and put it down to magic... though magic wasn't recognised in this day and age, unless it was the kind practised in cabaret acts and on TV shows, and that was only tricks and slight of hand... not magic at all. In fact, Merlin didn't know if there was anyone else who had true magic in the world today. Whenever he ventured from his home base he'd searched with his senses, but still had found no signs of either light or dark magic. Surely, he couldn't be the last of his kind? 

Now he knew how Kilgarrah and Aithusa had felt... how Aithusa still felt, living out the end of her life skulking around Loch Ness. In fact, she hadn't been sighted in over a decade and he really ought to check on how she was faring. He was sure she was still alive though. Wouldn't he feel her loss if she'd passed away?

The truth was that until very recently he had put aside his Emrys persona and tried to live a quiet, unobtrusive life, shunning the company of others as best he could. There were just so many times a person could make a life for himself only to see his friends and loved ones grow old and die. Year by year, century by century he'd retreated inside himself till he was little more than a recluse, living near Glastonbury Tor where once he'd sent King Arthur over the lake of Avalon to rest on the Isle. Hell, in these last years, the lake had become little more than a bog. Or it had been! The waters were returning... not exactly like the lake of ancient times, but more than a soggy pond.

Kilgarrah had told him Arthur would rise again, but as time passed by, he'd begun to doubt the dragon's words. In Albion's greatest need, he'd said. Merlin considered all the terrible catastrophes he'd witnessed in his lifetime. In the last century alone there'd been two World Wars which might have been regarded as great needs, yet never once had he sensed even the tiniest ripple in his magical aura.

Not until lately.

He couldn't exactly pinpoint when it had begun. It seemed as if there were changes coming to the world... as if the world was somehow off kilter. But it had happened gradually, or perhaps not. Scientists had been predicting global warming for decades, but multi-national businesses and many governments had chosen to ignore the warnings that human endeavour was in part responsible for the phenomenon. The sceptics spoke of how the climate of the world had changed naturally a number of times since the Earth had formed and these current predictions were purely scare tactics. Yet no one could deny that disasters created by extreme weather were occurring around the world on a more frequent basis and with increasing violence. 

Merlin hadn't listened to the arguments from either side; he knew magic was woven into the very fabric of the earth, was in all living things and that magic was definitely out of balance. Life and the very world itself was in danger. 

For the first time in many years, Merlin had bestirred himself to take action. Sometime ago he'd begun to plan his re-emergence into the twenty-first century and in a position where he could influence and protect his world. And where better to do that than at Camelot Industries, because the one thing that had given him hope, despite the fear, was the knowledge stirring deep within his being that he wouldn't be working alone.

Arthur would rise again.

Merlin just hadn't expected it all to be so simple. Arthur had fallen into the deep tarn, knocking himself out on the way and causing Merlin to rescue him as he had so long ago. In their old life, the prince hadn't remembered much of what led up to his almost drowning, though being enchanted by a Sidhe might have played a part in his loss of memory.

It had taken Merlin completely by surprise when Arthur had regained consciousness with the knowledge of who he was, who he had been... and exactly who Rhys Wilson was.

Now Merlin... no Rhys, he really had to stay in character, was anxious to talk to Arthur to find out how much the royal idiot did recall. He was also fairly concerned about his friend's state of health, though Arthur had survived worse injuries in the past. If Merlin had learned nothing else in those years he'd spent with The King of Camelot, he certainly knew the clotpole had a very hard head.

He was shaken from his reflections by the doors to A&E sliding open and Arthur emerging, carrying a similar bag to the one he'd been given, and with a rather careworn doctor in tow.

“Mr Penderel, you have a mild concussion and you inhaled water into your lungs. We strongly advise that you spend at least twenty-four hours in our care.”

“But my lungs are clear now?” The doctor nodded and Arthur continued. “And I've had concussion before, so I know what to look out for. Besides, I won't be alone. My friend Rhys knows quite a lot about first aid. So you don't have to worry about me.”

“I strongly recommend...”

Arthur gave the doctor one of his wide grins. “I promise Rhys will bring me back if my condition deteriorates. Won't you, Merlin?” As the doctor's eyebrows raised, Arthur laughed. “I call him Merlin... A joke! You know, King Arthur and Merlin? He hates it!”

“Well, if you're staying locally?” the doctor conceded, though clearly against his better judgement.

“My PA should be here shortly and I'm sure she'll have already made the reservations.”

Arthur was shepherding Rhys to the exit, but the emergency doctor wasn't finished. “All right, but if your headache gets worse, and it probably will, take the paracetamol we've given you. Remember, no aspirin nor ibuprofen and definitely no alcohol. We hope not to see you again,” the harassed man added, before turning to Rhys. “However, if there is any increased dizziness or any sign of confusion or unconsciousness get him back here quickly.” 

“Don't worry, I will,” Rhys promised, trying not to grin at Arthur. “You'd be surprised how many times I've had to rescue this prat.”

“Mer... Rhys, shut up!” Arthur said imperiously, then shook the doctor's hand. “Thank you for taking care of us. Your staff have been very efficient and friendly and I'm grateful for all your help.” At that, Arthur smiled and waved to the nurses who had come to see him off, then throwing an arm around his long lost friend's shoulder, he marched him outside. “Merlin, you've a lot of explaining to do, but before that I do hope you have somewhere for us to stay. That guy's right. My head is killing me!”

“I do... have a place to stay... but you're not going to like it,” Merlin wrinkled his nose. “It's back in Seil and it's a Bed and Breakfast. Probably not up to your grand standards... and I'm bunking with Will.”

“Will? As in Will from Ealdor?” Arthur let out a whoop at Merlin's nod, then his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the younger man, his cheeks flushing slightly red. “Merlin, you're not? You and Will... you're not an... item... are you?” 

“No!” Merlin replied flustered and annoyed. “We're just sharing the costs. We're not all on your grand salary. And even if we were, what would it matter?”

Arthur shrugged. “It wouldn't. Good God, no! Like I told you back in Camelot, what a man does in his own time is nothing to do with me. I just wanted to get my head round any changes.”

“Right. How about you?”

“Me?” Arthur touched his chest. “No, of course not.”

“Sorry! Stupid question really if those celeb mags are anything to go by. You're frequently snapped with any number of blondes... or brunettes.” Merlin stuck his hands in his pockets. “What's wrong with redheads?” he asked, airily, straying off course.

“Nothing's wrong with redheads. I just haven't met any I wanted to date. And why are we talking about my taste in women?” 

The two men stood in silence for some moments in the car-park, looking around and feeling a bit lost. At least it had stopped raining. Finally Arthur spoke again. “Why are you worrying about the cost of your stay? You work for Camelot. Surely you can claim expenses?”

“True,” Merlin admitted, “but I doubt the finance department would be happy to sign off on a five star hotel for me.”

“I suppose not,” Arthur acknowledged grudgingly, but he quickly brightened up again. “You can leave Will to the B&B and come and stay with me. Mind you, that might prove difficult for the moment, seeing as I don't have any place booked... not that I know off.” He gazed around. “Strange, I expected Gwen to be here by now. I'm sure Will or one of your team would have alerted head office to our little accident. Gwen usually homes in on stuff like that...”

Merlin's head swung round. “Gwen? You know Gwen, as in Guinevere?”

“Yes... well, not exactly. In this life she's just Gwen.”

“I never read you were married... or engaged.”

“I'm not,” Arthur said ambiguously and Merlin couldn't fathom if he was pleased or disappointed at that fact. “She's my PA... and my best friend. Though come to think of it, now I know why I always felt so comfortable around her. We were married for four years. Not that she remembers that. Hell, until a few hours ago, I didn't remember that,” Arthur garbled on, feeling a nervous knot form in his stomach. How would he react to Gwen when she arrived, having realised the truth?

Merlin seemed to understand Arthur was feeling a trifle shell-shocked. “Will doesn't remember either, so don't go acting as if he does.”

“Are we the only ones who know?”

“Not really... No!” Merlin gritted his teeth. “Back on Easdale. Mrs MacDougall is really Alice and she's invited you and I to visit her.”

“Alice? Not sure I remem...” Then a light switched on in Arthur's brain. “Gaius's lady friend? Didn't she try to kill my father? But, if I recall, she escaped from our dungeons... probably with the old man's help.”

“Very probably,” Merlin agreed.

“She used dark magic!” Arthur scowled as the memories came back to him.

“Yes, but she wasn't in control of herself. The Manticore had taken over her mind.”

“What's a manticore?” Arthur asked, intrigued despite his obvious tension.

“A nasty looking creature, about the size of a small dog... but with a sort of human face. Though it had a horrible set of teeth and a tail like a scorpion,” Merlin reminisced with a shiver, seeing the beast in his mind's eye. “Lived in a box... well not really, the box was just a portal...”

“Merlin! What are you babbling about?” Arthur resisted a strong desire to hit his servant... well, geologist over the head. 

“The Manticore. It was a creature of dark magic and it hypnotised poor Alice into poisoning Uther with its venom. Alice wasn't a bad person and I don't think she is now either.” 

“Do you think she has magic?” Arthur asked as an afterthought.

Merlin shook his head slightly. “I didn't sense it, but then I was too busy worrying about saving your life again, so I didn't really check. Sorry. But I think it's safe to assume that she might. She definitely knew about us.”

“Merlin, you didn't save my life all that many times,” Arthur said derogatorily. “And you certainly failed to do so that last time.”

“I know and I'm sorry.” Merlin's gaze took on a faraway look. “I am very, very sorry. I never really got over losing you like that.”

Arthur saw tears well in his friend's eyes and quickly took hold of Merlin's shoulder comfortingly. “You tried all that you could, Merlin. It wasn't your fault. You should know you can't change destiny. Besides, I'm back now... ready to fight for all that's good in the world.” Arthur gave one of those dazzling smiles, which was quickly replaced by a frown. “Merlin, why am I back? According to those books I've read on The Arthurian Legend, I'm supposed to return during Albion's greatest need. So why am I back now?”

“To fight climate change?” Merlin suggested with an apologetic shrug.

“Me?” Arthur's voice almost rose off the scale.

“And me... and possibly Alice... and Gwen, if she ever remembers.” At Arthur's shocked look, Merlin made another suggestion. “Perhaps we should get a taxi and find a hotel. There seems to be a rank over there.” He pointed to a couple of taxis sitting at the edge of the car park. “You look like you're about to faint, and if that happens, they'll wheel you back in there.” Merlin gestured to the glass doors of the hospital behind them.

Arthur stayed quiet for a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium. It wasn't every day you had the responsibility of saving the world dropped on your shoulders... and it wasn't like he was Superman! Thankfully, he was dragged from his state of shock by a sleek car speeding into the hospital grounds and coming to a halt in front of Merlin and himself.

The driver's door opened and a curly-haired, dusky-skinned young woman stepped out, looking daggers at her employer. “I can't leave you alone for a moment without you getting yourself into trouble. I got a message saying you were in hospital in Oban. What have you been up to this time, Arthur?”

“It wasn't my fault!” Arthur said quickly, trying to appease his irate PA. “Would you believe there was this earth... quake?”

Merlin smiled. Gwen might not be Arthur's wife in this life... yet, but she certainly knew how to make Arthur jump. He thought he'd lend his new/old friend a hand. “No, it wasn't. There really was an earthquake. Well more of an earth tremor really and the ground gave way beneath Arthur, then he fell into a flooded quarry... and hit his head.”

Gwen came round the car, examining both men, but paying more attention to Arthur. Clearly they were wearing clothes which didn't belong to them. Arthur certainly was. Though he preferred casual clothes, his were always designer labels. These looked as if they'd come out of a charity shop. But he also looked very pale and tired, causing her to take pity on him. 

“OK. It sounds strange, but you can tell me all about it later.” She opened the car doors. “Right now we should go get you checked into the hotel. You look like you're about to drop.” As both men moved towards the car, she asked. “By the way, who's your friend?”

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other, silently expressing the same thought. Gwen didn't remember!

“Gwen, this is Rhys Wilson.” Arthur slid into the front passenger seat, throwing the ungainly sack in the back. “Rhys this is Gwen Armour.” He watched as they shook hands. “You might want to thank him 'cause he saved my life.”

For a second Gwen looked surprised, then she laughed. “Of course he did!” she commented, astounding the two men. She ignored their startled stares and waited till Merlin was inside before getting into the driver's seat and driving off.

~Did Gwen just remember?~ Merlin asked telepathically without thinking.

Arthur turned in his seat, his eyes boring into Merlin. He groaned, clutching at his head, completely blind-sided. 

“Arthur, are you all right?” asked Gwen, her voice edged with worry. “Perhaps you're not ready to leave the hospital.”

“No! It's OK Gwen. They warned me I'd have a headache, and this one is a humdinger. Just get me to the hotel,” Arthur said, though in his mind he formed a question to Merlin.

~Can we talk to each other... telepathically?~

~You actually heard me?~

~Yeah! You asked if Gwen remembered.~

~Wow! Seems so. Though don't ask me how. I thought it only worked with Druids.~

~I'm not a Druid!~

~True... but it works. Don't look so horrified. This could be fun!~

Arthur groaned again and buried his face even deeper into his hands. This had been one hell of a day!

 

*****

 

Arthur wasn't sure how long it actually took to drive to the hotel because he fell asleep during the journey. The next thing he knew was Guinevere shaking him awake. No, not Guinevere. This was Gwen!

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“Not long. We're at the hotel,” Gwen announced with a smile. “I'm sorry it's a little way out of Oban and maybe even further from the research site, but I guessed you'd prefer your comfort... and you've got to admit it does look very picturesque.”

All three looked through the car windows at the building by the loch. Sometime between leaving the hospital and arriving at their destination the rain had stopped and now the sun crept from behind the breaking clouds, casting purple shadows on the mountains while the waters seemed to sparkle and dance in the late afternoon light. The white painted hotel shone clean and welcoming, nestled in the surrounding trees.

“Looks better than anything I've ever stayed at,” Merlin remarked, getting out of the car.

~Better than Camelot?~ Arthur raised his eyebrows as he too stumbled onto the drive.

~It probably has better plumbing.~

~Merlin, you have no soul!~

“Well, I think it looks lovely,” Gwen declared, looking around her. “And the view is stunning.”

Arthur took a few steps towards the loch shore, his feet crunching on the gravel. “I agree, Gwen. Everything looks much better when the sun is shining. I wonder if they have fishing rights.”

“You're an angler?” Merlin couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Sure. My dad used to take me when I was little down in Devon. Mind you, this seems on a much grander scale. They probably fish for salmon.”

Again Merlin looked shocked. Somehow he couldn't imagine Uther taking a young Arthur fishing, but maybe Arthur's father was totally different this time round.

“You should meet my father, Rhys. I think you might like him.” 

Merlin threw Arthur a questioning look. Had he read his mind?

~I didn't need to. The look on your face said it all.~ 

Their little tête-à-tête was interrupted as a porter came out to ask if they had reservations and if so could he take their luggage indoors.

“We do,” Gwen answered, rummaging around in her purse for the confirming email. “The booking is under the name of Penderel and I've booked a suite and a room.”

“You have indeed, madame,” replied the porter in a lilting accent and beaming broadly. “May I welcome you to The Lochside Hotel and please come inside. The receptionist will see to your needs.”

“Thank you.” Gwen popped the boot open before walking inside, followed by Arthur and Rhys. “I didn't know I had to book three rooms,” she said in an aside to her boss.

“That's OK. I'm sure there'll be room for Mer... Rhys in my suite.”

“I don't have any luggage, apart from the clothes that got soaked,” Merlin pointed out, still clutching the hospital bag. “I'm going to need something else to wear,” he added looking down at himself. “I look like a refugee.”

“So do I, now you come to mention it.” Arthur hurried to catch up with his PA, which wasn't the best of ideas and he found himself grabbing her arm to steady himself. “Gwen, we have to get these clothes laundered and returned to the hospital and have our own cleaned and pressed.” He fingered the shirt he was wearing. “I think we got these courtesy of the Women's Institute. Oh, and arrange for a donation to be made to their social fund... and find out if the hospital is needing any funding for equipment. They were very good.”

“I'll see to that, Arthur.” Gwen smiled.

Merlin, however, wasn't amused. “Still doesn't solve what I'm going to wear.”

“The hotel probably supplies toiletries and you can borrow some clothes of mine,” Arthur said, looking Merlin up and down. “The height should be OK, though you'll need to borrow a belt.” At that, Merlin chuckled, causing Arthur to change to telepathy.

~Don't you dare say I'm fat again!~

“I wasn't going to 'cause you're not fat this time,” Rhys replied, speaking normally, though he did lower his voice slightly. “Must be all that polo you play.”

“Merlin, be careful,” Arthur hissed. “You don't know who's listening.”

“Then you better stop calling me Merlin!”

Arthur had the grace to blush. “Sorry. I keep forgetting.” He pointed a finger at Merlin. “I know you think I'm some fancy rich boy, but I actually prefer playing football to polo.”

“You can't deny being filthy rich and you do play.” Merlin grinned. “I saw that article about you in Hello!”

“That was my father's doing. To tell the truth, I think I'm a bit of a disappointment to him.”

Merlin was about to ask about the father-son relationship, but Gwen walked over and interrupted. “There, that's all sorted. Rhys, you're in the Kilchurn Suite with Arthur. They tell me there's a sofa bed in the living room, so he won't keep you awake with his snoring.”

“I do not snore!”

“How do you know he snores?”

Arthur and Merlin spoke in chorus.

“I stayed over with Arthur during uni sometimes. But not staying over... staying over.” It was Gwen's turn to blush. “Just... staying over... not in the same bed or anything.” And she flushed even brighter at that, because they had shared a bed once or twice, but only because they'd fallen asleep while studying. 

“And you're never going to stay over again if you go around telling lies about me snoring.” Having had the final word, Arthur changed the subject. “Now where is this suite?”

 

*****

 

The suite was large and airy with comfortable, though old fashioned furniture, very much suited to the refurbished nineteenth century building. However, it did have every modern appliance from flat screen televisions to wifi, coffee makers and a spa bath.

After looking the accommodations over, Arthur announced it would do very nicely and almost immediately went to sample the bath, making use of the stylish pyjamas, terry towelling dressing gown and slippers which were laid out in the bedroom.

“See, Rhys, they've even supplied pjs, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“It's too early to get ready for bed. I'm actually hungry.” Merlin heard his stomach rumble loudly, causing Gwen to laugh.

“I'm more tired than hungry,” Arthur said, stifling another yawn. “Gwen, why don't you get settled into your room, then come back and we can order room service. I think I'm ready for an early night.”

Immediately, Gwen was all concern for her boss. “Are you feeling OK? You don't think we should send for a doctor.” 

A gentle smile touched Arthur's lips as he watched his Girl Friday. “I'm probably better than I've any right to be. The doctors told me what to expect, and I think I just need to rest.” As he walked through to the bathroom, he passed his bedroom. “I've got to say that bed is looking really welcoming.”

“A four poster,” Merlin guffawed again. “That should make you feel right at home.”

But Arthur probably didn't hear as he disappeared into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder. “Rhys, just open my cases and take whatever you want to wear... only don't take my Vivienne Westwood chinos, the black ones. They're off limits.”

Gwen smiled apologetically at Rhys. “He loves those chinos. Don't look so worried, Rhys. He won't eat you. His bark is worse than his bite. I'll go check out my room, then I'll be back and we'll order dinner. Will that do you?”

“Sure thing. I'll just wait here,” Merlin said, sitting on the large sofa which was to be his bed for the night. He didn't feel at ease raking through Arthur's luggage, but he didn't feel very at home in these ill-fitting clothes either. His nose wrinkled... they even smelt a bit musty. What the hell! He'd been given permission, so he might as well take a look at what rich people wore. 

Oh, and he really should call Will, only he didn't know what had happened to his mobile. It was probably still back on Easdale. It could even be at the bottom of that pool, as might Arthur's. Perhaps the well-off dollophead had another inside his luggage. Another reason to go searching through his boss's cases. 

Merlin strolled into the bedroom to see the pile of baggage on the stand. Why did Arthur need so much luggage for a trip that might only last a few days? Clearly this Arthur didn't understand the concept of travelling light.

 

*****

 

When Arthur finally emerged from the bathroom, he found Merlin absent-mindedly flipping through channels on the large television. The former king was still wearing the complimentary pyjamas and was wrapped in the soft robe though he was now barefoot. His toes curled into the soft pile carpet as he stretched his hands above his head and worked the kinks out of his back.

“You have to try that bath, Merlin. It's really good for aches and pains.”

“How about your headache?” Rhys asked still watching the screen.

Arthur's brow wrinkled. “Nah! That's still there, unfortunately.”

At last, Rhys looked up. “You should take some paracetamol. They're over on the table,” he said, pointing at a side-table by the edge of the couch.

“Thanks.” Arthur lifted the paper bag the doctor had supplied him with and fished out the pills, crossing to the fridge to find a bottle of water. He quickly downed two pills. “Has Gwen gone to her room?”

“Yup. Said she'd be back soon,” Rhys answered monosyllabic, again concentrating on finding a TV channel which might actually be reporting on what happened on Easdale.

“Right.” Arthur sat opposite his erstwhile friend, glancing over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “You know, Merlin, you really are as untidy as ever. When I said borrow some of my clothes, I didn't expect you to rummage around in my luggage like a demented customs officer on the trail of contraband.”

“Oh, that. Sorry. I was looking for this.” Rhys lifted the smart phone which was lying on the couch by his side. “I left mine on the island somewhere.”

“Did you phone Will?”

“Yup. Thought I should let him know what's happening.” Merlin squinted at Arthur. “Told him you got discharged, that I was staying here overnight and would be back at the site tomorrow morning, if that's all right with you?” 

“Of course. I'll get Gwen to order you a car. I take it yours is still in Seil? And don't say yup again, or I might have to throw something at you.” Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What's wrong, Merlin?”

“I wish I knew.” Rhys finally laid the remote-control down. “There's not a thing on the news about what's happening in Easdale. There hasn't been, not from the beginning, apart from in the local press, or the occasional tabloid scare-mongering. But you're a reportable commodity. I thought you almost drowning might make the main news.” 

“Perhaps I'm not that important.” Arthur shrugged, but he didn't dismiss Merlin's unease. He'd learned from his last life that his warlock's funny feelings shouldn't be ignored. “What do you think is happening on Easdale?”

This time, Rhys shrugged. “You'll think I'm nuts.”

“I doubt that. You'll notice I haven't freaked out at learning you're a very old man -- I don't think you've ever died -- nor knowing I lived once before, nor remembering that you have magic. Not to mention the telepathy! Given all that, I think you can tell me anything. So come on,” Arthur said encouragingly, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me. Before Gwen comes back.”

Merlin pushed himself upright and went to look out the window, down to the loch. “It's not just Easdale... or even Scotland or the UK. Something has gone wrong with the world.”

“As in global warming?” Arthur asked, showing he wasn't totally unaware.

For a long moment, Rhys stared at the beautiful, peaceful scene outside before he turned to confront Arthur. “It's partly that and it's manifesting itself in extreme weather conditions. And some of that's due to nature which is being exacerbated by human enterprises...”

“But that's not all?” There was no sign of flippancy in Arthur's tone.

Rhys walked back to sit on the sofa, capturing Arthur's intense gaze with his own. “Arthur, did I ever tell you that magic was woven into the very fabric of the earth? It still is, even though no one believes in it these days.”

“I don't think we'd the time to get around to you explaining magic. Only you telling me that you were born a sorcerer and you used your magic for me.”

“Which was true.” Rhys nodded and gave a tiny grin. “And no doubt I'll do the same all over again. After all, I've been waiting a very long time for you to return.” He moved to the edge of his seat. “Arthur, something or someone is messing with the magic of the world and unless we can fix things, these disastrous situations are only going to get worse.”

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “Boy! That's quite a task. And I thought I was under pressure in Camelot.”

There was a knock on the door and Gwen's voice drifted through asking if they were decent.

Arthur rose to open the door, but he heard Merlin's whisper from behind him.

“And remember to call me Rhys! You keep forgetting.”

 

*****

 

They ordered room-service in the early evening and their meals were excellent, though Arthur ate very little, and it was clear to Rhys and Gwen that he was tiring fast. By tacit agreement all three kept off the subject of the day's occurrence, the probable... and the more incredible causes. 

Since Merlin knew his background was pretty much off limits while he and Arthur were still unsure of Gwen's knowledge of their shared past, he asked them about their current history, how they had met and become friends?

And as he listened to their recollections and their gentle teasing of each other, he realised that here were two people who had become very close over the years; looked out for each other and possibly cared more deeply than either was ready to acknowledge. It gave him a warm feeling inside and a sense of hope, chasing away the dread that had slowly been seeping through his being. Together... and perhaps with some of their other friends, because who knew who else would be reincarnated... they could perhaps triumph over the encroaching threat.

As they sat relaxed at the table finishing their coffees, the setting sun's rays struck the room, bathing it in a warm, restful glow, so Arthur's words surprised both Rhys and Gwen.

“I'll go pull on some clothes and let's take a walk down to the lake.” He rose and made his way to the bedroom. “It's such a lovely evening after such a horrible day, I'm sure we could all use some sun.”

“I think you'll find they call it a loch in this neck of the woods,” Merlin joked.

“Merlin, do you always have to correct me?” Arthur shouted back edgily, his still nagging headache making him act a bit peevishly.

“Merlin?” came Gwen's quick response. “Who's Merlin.”

Arthur appeared in the doorway, having shed his dressing gown and top. “Rhys, of course,” he countered quickly. “You know... Arthur and Merlin... hero and side-kick. It's a joke.”

“In that case, Merlin's the hero, since he saved you,” Gwen said, staring at Arthur's bared chest for a moment before a slight flush coloured her cheeks and she looked away. “And shouldn't Merlin be an old man with white hair and a long beard?”

“And a magic staff, Gwen. Don't forget the staff.” Merlin joined in, happy to misdirect Gwen, while he spoke to Arthur's mind.

~You twat! What did I tell you about calling me Merlin?~

~Well it's hard to remember with this fuzzy head.~ Arthur smirked foolishly to his PA. “Maybe it's not such a great joke. I just think the nickname suits him. Don't you?”

Merlin stare wide-eyed at his idiot of a king. ~What the hell do you think you're doing?~

“Since I don't have white hair or a beard, and I'm only twenty-six, no I don't think it suits me, and I don't think you look much like a king either,” Rhys said, staring balefully at his boss. “King Arthur, that's a laugh. Wasn't he an honourable warrior?”

~Ok, you don't have to throw a fit. Clearly Gwen has no idea of our past lives. Oh, and you were right. I'm beginning to like this mind talking thing.~

Out loud, Arthur spoke. “So I'm not 'King Arthur' but I believe you're still my employee,” he teased, his mouth spreading into a wide grin. “Let me just get dressed and we can take that walk.”

“Arthur, perhaps that's not such a good idea. Shouldn't you be resting?” Gwen couldn't keep the worry from her voice.

Once more, Arthur's smile gentled when he turned to her. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to stress you out. But I really think some fresh air might clear my head and help me sleep.” 

With that he went back into the room to change and very shortly the three friends walked companionably down to the edge of the shimmering loch, finding the setting sun surprisingly warm. Neither Merlin nor Arthur was surprised when Gwen slipped between them and linked her arms through theirs, smiling at them both, her brown eyes shining with affection. She might not remember, but the gesture was all Guinevere.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the readers who left kudos. Hopefully, you'll find this chapter interesting and enjoyable.


	3. Turbulent Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again there is telepathic conversations in this chapter and they are denoted thus :-
> 
> ~.....~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would update this story weekly, so I must apologise for missing last week. I was feeling very unwell and then my husband, who is disabled, was also unwell, which makes my life difficult because I'm his carer. 
> 
> By the time I started to feel normal, I decided to wait till this Thursday to post this chapter. Hopefully, I'll get back to my weekly posting schedule now.

Chapter Three

Turbulent Waters

 

As Merlin drove to Easdale the next morning, he stifled a yawn, trying to keep his attention on the narrow, twisting road. He hadn't slept very well, but it had nothing to do with sleeping on the sofa bed, which was extremely comfortable; he guessed that was only to be expected from a luxury hotel. It was worry about Arthur which had kept him awake. He'd opened the bedroom door a number of times during the night to check on his friend, but he'd been reassured by the sound of Arthur's steady breathing... and Gwen was right, Arthur did snore.

Actually, Merlin wouldn't have minded if Arthur had wakened because he would've liked to learn more about the Penderel family and the differences between their lives in the sixth century compared to now. For instance, he knew that one of the most important changes was that Arthur's mother Ygrainne was still alive, which, hopefully, meant that Uther... no, that wasn't right. He really had to get these names straight in his head, including his own. He was Rhys, not Merlin! Over the last few years, he'd become accustomed to his new identity and it had only been the idiot calling him Merlin that had got his head in a spin.

However, back to Arthur's family! In this current time, Arthur's father was called Benedict, and Rhys hoped that since Benedict hadn't lost his wife, he might be a more reasonable type of person and not a paranoid tyrant. The passing references Arthur had made about his father suggested his personality might fall somewhere between a ruthless chairman of a multi-national business and a fairly considerate family man. Rhys truly wished that was the case and that Benedict Penderel was no longer magic's enemy, since it was clear Arthur loved his father as much in this life as he had in ancient times. 

Which brought him to Arthur's sister... Anna. Rhys had seen her photographs. Who hadn't? She was one of the UK's top photo-journalists, travelling to many of the world's trouble spots to report in her very talented and unique way. Her art had even won her a few awards. But she was also Morgana? The big question was whether she was a High Priestess in her current incarnation. Just because Rhys had never sensed anyone's power didn't mean there weren't other magic users out there. 

After all, he'd been in the same room with Fiona MacDougall and hadn't known she had magic and he'd only recognised her as Alice when she'd tried to make herself known to him. Granted, he had been somewhat preoccupied, worrying about the prat.

The only thing Rhys knew for certain was that Arthur remembered his past life, as did Fiona, but Gwen didn't seem to have a clue. Did that mean that none of the other members of the Penderel family recalled their lives spent in the original Camelot either?

He and Arthur had to have a long talk and work out some sort of strategy to discover the truth, but before that he had a job to do, finding out what was making the flooded quarries of Easdale bubble like the spa bath at the hotel. Arthur was right about that bath; he'd had fun trying it out last night. In fact, sampling Arthur's life style did have its advantages. He had to admit that the current Arthur treated him much better than the original one ever had.

Rhys couldn't help but laugh as he drove across The Bridge Over The Atlantic, happier than he'd ever thought possible. After all the long years of waiting, he was thrilled to be united with his two best friends, even if one couldn't remember her place in their relationship. Yet, he was almost at his destination and his mood changed abruptly. It was time to get down to business. Find the root of the problem, and the big question wasn't what was happening on Easdale but why!

 

*****

 

When Rhys arrived on the island, he was a little surprised to find that the tarn Arthur had fallen into was today vitreous and black with just the occasional air bubble marring its mirror like surface. It was also abandoned. Yet, having been told by the skipper of the boat that he'd already ferried the rest of the team over, he went in search of them, finding them by a flooded quarry on the other side of the island that seemed to be showing some signs of turbulence.

“Morning, guys,” Rhys called, stumping the last few metres up the path towards them. At least, the ground wasn't quite as soggy as the day before.

“Well look who's finally showed up!” Will said, his voice pitched somewhere between hurt and annoyance. “I wasn't sure we'd be graced with the pleasure of your company today. Thought you might be lording it with your new best friend.”

“My new best friend, as you call him, happens to be my boss... all our bosses, and I only stayed with him last night because he had concussion, but his PA's with him now. So let's get on with the job we came to do.” 

Rhys wondered why he'd been a bit economical with the truth. After all, Gwen had been there last night and he could easily have returned to the digs he shared with Will. However, this Arthur was just as commandeering as The King and he'd simply taken it for granted Rhys would stay... no questions asked. Not that Merlin had always obeyed his king's orders, and he wasn't about to start doing that now, only he had wanted to spend time getting to know this Arthur. 

But that was something Will would never understand. Perhaps Will had no memory of his first incarnation, but just as then, he hated people in authority. According to Will, there was a line between workers and management which should never be crossed. A line between rich and poor. Though it had to be said, Will wasn't exactly poor this time around. He was Rhys's assistant and Rhys knew Camelot Industries paid him a decent salary. Mind you, when compared with the fortune Arthur had access to, both he and Will fell inadequately short. It was all relative, as Will would say. Yet just as before, Will wasn't a bad person. Rhys could only hope that this current incarnation wouldn't end as badly for him as it had so long ago. In fact, if he could possibly control the situation, Will would stay safe. 

A shiver overtook Rhys, which he steadily quelled. It wasn't as if there were gangs of bandits pillaging the country in this day and age. And if there were, the police were perfectly capable of restoring law and order. Rhys pushed these thoughts aside. It was time to get back to work and stop indulging in flights of fancy. 

“I take it you've finished up at the other quarry?” he asked, his tone friendly. “I went there first, and it seems relatively calm today.”

“Yeah. Not like yesterday,” Will answered with a smile, clearly deciding to let his moment of exasperation drop. “We took lots of samples though, then we thought we'd check the rest of these pools. The others are fairly quiet, but this one is showing signs of agitation.”

“And you're taking samples here... and what about the others? Even though they're looking fairly normal at the moment, they could be affected soon.”

“That's the intention.” Will nodded. “But we're going to have to fly the samples to the lab at HQ for testing. Unless you have any other ideas.”

Rhys thought for a moment. He supposed Arthur would have the clout to hire space in a laboratory somewhere closer to hand, but perhaps that wasn't wise. These tests were highly confidential. Besides, Camelot's helicopter was still parked on Seil, though it might not have an option but to move today. Perhaps he should call Arthur and ask what he wanted done.

“I'm not sure, Will. The helicopter's still there. We just need permission to use it.”

At those words, Will grimaced as his dislike surfaced once again. “I'm sure Penderel will give you permission. After all, you just saved his life.” 

Uncharacteristically, Rhys bridled. “What did you expect me to do, Will? Let him drown?”

His assistant shrugged, while the rest of the team got on with their jobs, pretending not to listen to this heated exchange. They all knew Will's opinion of upper management. He was their Union representative.

“Hell, Rhys! One less rich, stuck-up guy in the world. Sorry, but I fail to see the downside,” Will ground out though his voice dropped lower.

“You don't mean that... and Arthur does work, you know.” Actually, Rhys didn't know how much truth there was in that last statement as he'd never had any interaction with this Arthur before, and judging by how many times he appeared in celebrity magazines, there could be no doubt Arthur liked the high life. 

But Rhys remembered how much Arthur had fought for his people long ago; how often he was willing to sacrifice his life for the good of Camelot... and there was never any doubt about how much effort Arthur had put in to keep himself in fighting shape. Even the knights used to complain at his training regime. Rhys doubted this Arthur was any different, underneath his playboy lifestyle. “And maybe I should remind you that he pays your wages.”

“Not me personally.” There came a voice from behind them and turning in shock, Rhys saw Arthur coming down the track. “I think you'll find that's Camelot Industries. I'm just an employee, too.”

“What are you doing here?” Rhys asked, exasperation taking over from surprise. “You've got concussion. You're not supposed to drive!”

“I didn't! I'm not that much of an idiot,” Arthur said, looking aggrieved before he turned round to shout and beckon. “Gwen, they're over here. The ferry guy said he thought you'd moved operations.” Arthur smiled at the group as he picked his way through the still muddy trail. “And I'm here to work, though that might be a strange concept for some.” He directed a speculative glance at Will, who turned and went back to join the others. “What can I do to help... apart from going for another swim?” 

“Hopefully that won't be necessary at the moment. Will's taken samples from the pond you fell into, though it's quieter today,” Rhys explained. “However, we need specimens from before and after.”

Arthur nodded. “That makes sense.” He helped Gwen cover the last few feet of ground to reach their side. “We spoke to the locals, and they told us this quarry and the one on the west side of the island are showing signs of disturbance now.” 

“That's true.” And to reinforce Rhys's words, the centre of the tiny lochan gurgled and issued something very like a large burp. Everyone's attention turned to the water. “Stand back,” Rhys shouted just in time as a small jet of water shot into the air. 

There was complete silence as everyone held their breaths, until Arthur spoke up. “Don't you need some kind of volcanic action for that to happen?”

“Usually,” Rhys replied, shaken to his core as a magic wave hit him then died away. “But like I told you yesterday, there haven't been any active volcanoes in this part of the world for millions of years.”

“Then what happened?” Arthur's sense of danger assumed a state of high alert when he noticed Rhys turning pale.

“That's what we're here to find out,” Rhys replied, regaining his composure, while telepathically he told Arthur his fears.

~I think that might have been caused by magic~

~Magic?~ It had to be said that Arthur looked sceptical. 

~Yes! And I'm just as shocked as you because I haven't experienced such powerful magic for over a thousand years.~

“Is it possible the volcano has reactivated?” Arthur asked aloud, though he appeared even more incredulous at that idea.

“That's crazy!” Will threw back over his shoulder at his boss. “It's more likely the local press is right and this is caused by your new shale gas extractions sites.”

“Does anyone have any evidence to back that claim?” Arthur returned quickly, a mulish set to his lips. 

Trying to head off a clash of personalities, Rhys stepped into the breach. “Look, we don't know why this is happening, but let's not get carried away. We should continue taking water samples in all these quarries, whether they're showing signs of activation or not.”

“The guys who run the ferry mentioned other slate islands around here which have pools like this,” Arthur continued. “Perhaps we should try to get to them all. Take as many samples so we can compare?”

“That's what I intend, but we need transportation to get them back to the lab. The quicker the better,” Rhys said, directing a questioning glance at Arthur.

“We can use the helicopter, though I'll have to organise that. The natives aren't going to like it sitting in their car park for any length of time.” Arthur backed up a couple of steps. “Come on Gwen, let's leave the boffins to their work. We'll go ask permission for the helicopter to fly in and out of here. I'm assuming you'll also need to book time in the laboratory?” At Rhys's nod, Arthur smiled. “Good. I can do that. Oh, and Rhys, if you need a closer look at the bottom of these pools, I'm a pretty good scuba diver.”

Gwen blanched. “Who is also recovering from a concussion. You can't go diving in your condition. In fact, you should be back at the hotel resting.”

“Don't worry, Gwen. I don't plan on donning a wetsuit right this minute.” Arthur put his arm around his PA's shoulder and pointed her in the direction of the village square and the pier. “We can handle the red tape from back at the hotel and you can fuss over me all you want.” At the last minute he turned round. “Rhys, we'll see you back at the hotel later!”

The two walked off down the track, leaving Rhys somewhat astounded, yet not upset. He and Arthur really did have to have a heart-to-heart talk.

“See! I knew you were getting all friendly with the rich twit.” Will sneered. “The B&B isn't good enough for you now.”

“Shut up, Will. It just so happens Arthur and I have a lot to discuss. If it is the fracking sites that are creating these disturbances then that's a big deal for Camelot. It's not like they're on the actual doorstep. Now we need to finish our sample taking, and if we've other islands to visit, then we better get a move on.”

Rhys passed Will, bumping his shoulder as his assistant was standing in his way. “And Will, you don't have to like Arthur, though he's not as bad as you think, but just remember who pays your wages.”

“Maybe not for much longer,” Will said airily to Rhys's back.

Rhys swung round, regarding his friend with some apprehension. Merlin had known Will in this current life since his magic awareness had told him, some years back, to get into this line of work. They'd met up in college, yet Will had never been Merlin's equal and had actually dropped out after his second year. Though it was obvious Will had no knowledge of their past relationship, Rhys had enjoyed the company of an old friend. When Merlin got his current job with Camelot Industries he'd immediately hired Will as his laboratory technician, but that relationship had been soured somewhat by Will's bolshie attitude.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Rhys demanded.

Will grinned rather mysteriously. “That's for me to know and you to find out!” And with that he clammed up and continued working as Rhys had told him.

 

***** 

Rhys had to admit that the house looked a lot more inviting in the sunshine and, to be honest, his mind had been concentrated solely on Arthur when they'd brought him here yesterday, soaking wet and barely conscious.

He stood back and gazed at the gleaming façade. Every house on the island was painted a uniform white and he loved how they sparkled in the sunlight... and perhaps during winter, white might brighten a damp and dreary day.

The lace curtain twitching caught his attention, prompting him to go through the gate and up the path to the door, which opened to him before he knocked.

“Come away in, Merlin,” Alice said invitingly, holding the door as he walked inside, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darker hallway. “I hope you don't mind me calling you Merlin, but you and I are old friends... though you might not see me that way since I was practising dark magic when we met. I'm so ashamed to admit that and I hope you'll forgive me, for Gaius's sake if for no other reason.”

Merlin's glance sharpened at Gaius's name and he couldn't hide the eagerness in his voice as he asked, “Have you met him in this life time?”

“Please, come inside and we'll talk.” Alice led him into her old family kitchen at the back of the house where the afternoon sun bathed the room with gentle hues. “Can I make you some tea... or coffee? All you young people seem to drink coffee these days.”

“I'm not that young. But I'd be grateful if you'd answer my question. Is Gaius back?”

“Not that I know of. I'm sorry, Merlin. I miss him too and I wish I could tell you otherwise, but apart from yourself and Arthur, I've never met anyone from that past life. Though I've seen all the Penderel family at some time or another in the newspapers; enough to know they're The Pendragons. Now sit yourself down and I'll make us a pot of tea, then we can have a nice little chat.”

Rhys sat in a large chintz chair by the fireplace which thankfully wasn't set since the room was warm, while Alice... or should that be Fiona... bustled about the kitchen making tea.

“What should I call you?” he asked the elderly lady, stretching out his legs. He'd been working hard since he'd arrived this morning on the island. “Fiona or Alice?”

She kept on working, but Rhys could hear the laugh in her voice. “I think it's best if we stick to our current names, now we've established who we really are. Though I have to admit it was nice to be called Alice again. But now I'm getting older and my brain isn't so sharp as it was, I think it's best I don't confuse our old lives with our new ones. Mind you, you've never really had another life. Have you?” At that she turned to face him. “You are Emrys.”

“I don't suppose you'd believe I don't know what you mean?” Rhys asked, attempting a little prevarication.

Alice stepped closer, but stopped by the table. “Rhys, you know the answer to that. Would it help if I assured you I wasn't your enemy? I wasn't even a bad person back in the Camelot days. I let myself be beguiled by the Manticore, and it was so wrong of me. I never meant to hurt Gaius and yet I did. You must hate me for that... but I've spent this life trying to atone for my sins. I practise homoeopathy and crystal healing and I think I've helped a number of people. Would you believe I even have a website?” Fiona chuckled at that. “A helpful neighbour set it up for me.”

“I'm guessing you use a little magic on the quiet too?” Rhys asked with a smile of his own.

The sound of the kettle boiling distracted Fiona and for a few moments she concentrated on making tea. When she finally poured Rhys a mug of the steaming liquid, she spoke sadly. “No one believes in magic anymore, so my patients don't mind if I incant a few strange words over them. I tell them it's a herbalist's prayer from ancient folklore and as long as they go away feeling better, they don't ask too many questions. Mind you, some of the locals think I'm some kind of white witch... but mostly they think I'm a harmless old lady who practices alternative medicine.”

Fiona sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace and set her own cup and saucer on a table by her side. “That's herbal tea.” She pointed at Rhys's mug. “Don't ask what's in it because an old woman has to keep some secrets, but it will help with your aches and pains. I'm sure you knocked yourself up a bit jumping in to save Arthur and I know you've been working hard since you got here.”

Rhys sipped his tea. “It's good. Refreshing, but warming at the same time.” Then he too placed his tea down and leaned forward. “Fiona, do you know what's happening here?”

“You mean the water turbulence? It's strange. For years these pools have been as calm as polished mirrors. Well not in bad weather, but there's an obvious reason for that. Over the past few weeks though, they've been bubbling up from beneath, sometimes acting like boiling cauldrons.” She sat back and set her rocking chair in motion, staring at the empty fire, then she shook herself out of her trance. “I wish you'd brought Arthur with you. He wasn't hurt badly, was he?”

“No. He has a concussion and a few bruises,” Rhys assured the clearly worried old lady. “He did come here earlier, but he was looking a bit shaky, so Gwen took him back to the hotel to rest. Don't worry, I've seen him survive far worse injuries. Mind you, that was over a thousand years ago, but I think this reincarnated Arthur takes his fitness just as seriously as he did then.”

“I knew he'd be fine... and I'm sure he does. It's uncanny how he still has this presence, even if he's not a king this time.” Fiona gave a tiny smile, remembering the young man who'd been carried into her house, pale and in pain, yet still very polite. “I would have liked to meet him again, but I suspect you've done most of your sampling here.”

“As a matter of fact, you'll probably get that chance. We might have finished taking water samples from here, and the rest of the team are doing the other islands as we speak. We've been told all the quarry sites have been experiencing the same activity.”

“They have,” Fiona concurred, and her usually serene expression turned dark. “Though probably not to the same degree. I'm not sure those water samples will tell you the whole truth though.”

“Which is why Arthur wants to explore some more underwater. He tells me he's got some experience of scuba-diving, though I suspect most of what he's done has been in The Caribbean or some other exotic and warm part of the world.”

“I'm not sure he'll find anything there either, but it's probably best to rule out every normal cause.” Now Fiona was looking very distressed.

Rhys stood up and crossed to her side where he knelt. “Alice, what is it that you're not telling me?”

She turned and stared into his eyes. “I sense something, Merlin. Something I haven't felt since my last life in Camelot. But since the disturbances began it's been there... in the background.” Fiona took Merlin's hand and held on tightly. “Sorcery! I feel it. A dark and powerful magic... and I'm afraid that, once again, your Arthur is in great danger.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know how you think this stroy is going, so feel free to comment.


	4. Possessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We leave our leading men for this chapter to introduce the villains of the piece. Some family members also appear who will feature more strongly in future posts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm once again apologising for posting late, but my life is very stressful at the moment and I think it would be better if I tried to post once every two weeks instead of weekly. I'm very sorry if you're reading this story, but hope you'll bear with me.

Chapter Four

 

 

Possessed

 

 

Mark Cornwallis had always had delusions of grandeur. He liked to think he could trace his family tree back to the days when Cornwall had its own kings, and he often had flights of fancy where he imagined himself in that position of power.

 

Of course, over the centuries his ancestors had lost both their riches and their position, and it had only been with a little begrudged help from a more influential relative that he'd managed to gain a position, lowly though it was, in an investment bank. At first, he'd believed the powers that be would be dazzled by his brilliance; that he would use his sharp mind and financial expertise to make a killing on the stock-market and be promoted quickly through the ranks. However, he'd joined just before the financial crisis in 2008 and been caught in the midst of the troubles. He'd been lucky to keep his job never mind gain a promotion. Since then he'd been overlooked for any advancement, leaving him feeling very frustrated and bitter.

 

No doubt he would have remained so, if not for a chance happening a few years ago while he was on holiday in the west country. He'd been exploring in Somerset and Devon and while checking out some ancient historic sites, he'd had a very strange accident. He'd fallen into what he thought was a sink hole.

 

Down and down he'd crashed, feeling terrified but had been extremely relieved when he'd found himself at the bottom, suffering from no more than a few bruises. However, his fear soon returned as he realised his predicament. The sides of the hole were steep and crumbly and didn't afford many hand holds. Besides, he wasn't the most adventurous or sportsmanlike person, so doubted he could climb out and he'd walked a fair way off the beaten track. He suspected there wouldn't be many people passing by to hear his cries either.

 

What was he thinking of? He could use his mobile phone to call for help! Quickly, he felt inside his pockets, but to no avail. With mounting horror, he rechecked every pocket in his jacket and trousers, but no phone appeared. Could he have left the guest house without it? No, he remembered putting it in the back pocket of his slacks, but when he rummaged again, he felt a jagged tear in the material of his trousers. Craning his neck around, he could see the whole pocket had been torn away.

 

For a few moments, he panicked again, but hurriedly told himself to calm down. The phone had obviously fallen out, so it followed that it had to here in the hole with him, He just had to find it. Taking a few deep breaths he began his search, which wasn't easy since the sun's rays didn't reach the bottom of this stupid pit.

 

He used his hands to feel around and was shocked when he brought a fall of earth down on himself. Scrambling back, his heart racing, he started to panic again. Was this going to be the end to his so far unremarkable, boring life? He doubted anyone would come looking for him any time soon. He was the type of person who liked to keep himself to himself and he hadn't told the people back at the B&B where he was going. How long would it take for them to realise he was missing?

 

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to start shouting for help, so he did just that. Mark screamed until his throat grew raw and he could hardly utter more than a squeak, but clearly there was no one near enough to hear. He really ought to start searching for his phone again, even though he risked another earth fall. He forced himself to move, but with great care, so he was totally shocked when more soil gave way, leaving a gap which looked like it led to another tunnel. Should he explore? He'd never heard of any mining taking place in these parts, but then he wasn't a serious historian, only ever being interested in his own ancestry.

 

The sky above had been slowly darkening with thick grey clouds and at that moment he felt rain fall heavily on his head. Could this day get any worse? Unfortunately it could, as runnels of raindrops coalesced and threatened to destabilise the sides of the hole. Without another thought, he scurried into the shaft, forcing himself onwards, afraid that at any second he could be buried under a landslide. This was a mistake... this was little more than a burrow. He should go back, but a rumbling from behind told him that was no longer an option. The only way was onward. Fearing for his life, he squeezed his body through the narrow opening.

 

Just as claustrophobia threatened to choke him, he suddenly broke through into a much wider space. Into a tunnel which was surprisingly different. Here there was no loose earth. The walls looked somewhat smooth, like they'd been hewed out of the rock by man. He walked on, able now to stand upright, the subway carrying him further beneath the earth. Yet, he hadn't wandered far when an eerie glow lightened the darkness and he heard a weird sound, almost as if someone was whispering in his ear.

 

Mark wasn't a very brave man, but he did have a healthy regard for his continuing existence and he obeyed the strange certainty that the way to his survival lay ahead. He rounded a bend in the passage and his mouth dropped open while his eyes stared in shock.

 

He was dreaming! He'd hit his head when he fell and he was now hallucinating. That was the only explanation for what he saw before him. He'd entered a large cave filled with treasure. Piles of jewels and gold, ornamental and in coin! Slowly he moved into the cave, bemused by the sights around him and entranced by the weird whispering voice.

 

_~Mark! I need your help, Mark! If you do as I say, I can make you richer than you could ever dream of.~_

 

Had he really heard those words, or was it just inside his head? Yet he was drawn forward, unable to resist the call of riches, until he stood at the side of an ancient tomb. It couldn't be anything else because a carved figure lay on top of a stone coffin. But where was he and who was it that was buried here so far beneath the earth? A burial place hidden so well that it had never been discovered before.

 

Someone very wealthy, his logical mind told him as he gazed at the huge heart-shaped sapphire on the effigy's breast. He reached out a hand to pick up the magnificent jewel, but the gem was stuck fast. Mark looked around him and found a rusty but handy chisel shaped tool at his feet. Without thought, his brain filled with greed, he prised the jewel free, lifting it reverently in his hand. The glow increased and an incandescent gas swirled around his head.

 

_~Thank you, Mark. You have set me free!~_

 

 

*****

 

 

The colleagues and superiors of Mark Cornwallis would never know the reasons behind his metamorphosis from a reliable, but dull member of staff at Wearing and Hope Investments to a highly charged and innovative financial analyst, who had subsequently risen to the top of his profession. If anyone had stopped to take note, they would've realised that the gentleman who'd gone on a walking holiday in England's south west wasn't quite the same as the person who'd returned, but most people put it down to him being a very late bloomer.

 

At first, he'd been happy with his promotions, but soon he'd felt frustrated by his seniors' lack of vision. Didn't they know he was better than each one of them? Soon he was using his position to look for a business venture which would give him more scope for his talents. He'd found it too. In the beginning, he'd been content to work from the inside to increase the worth of his fledgling empire, but that couldn't continue. Eventually, his machinations would be discovered, and as they were neither ethical nor legal, the new and improved Mark had to move onwards and upwards to greater things.

 

Leaving the banking world behind him, he'd taken his experience and assumed command of his pet project. He'd bought up, or, more precisely, had inveigled his way into a little known energy company at a time when the then government was encouraging smaller companies to throw their hats into the ring to increase market choice. With Mark's guidance and financial backing the company had begun to challenge the main providers of fuel and energy in the UK and Europe. Soon the renamed Sigan Fuels would rank alongside the biggest multi-nationals in the industry.

 

Mark Cornwallis would in the very near future be able to challenge Camelot Industries and Cornelius Sigan, the ancient sorcerer who'd helped build the citadel, would finally gain his revenge on the arrogant Pendragons. Sigan had learned his lesson from his last reincarnation. He'd been too hasty then. Subjugated his vessel completely instead of using his talents, and disclosed his own presence far too soon.

 

Wasn't there a saying... revenge is a dish best served cold? He would allow his alter-ego Mark Cornwallis to challenge Camelot; after all, he was a warrior more suited to the battlefields of this day and age. Only when the mighty Pendragons were destroyed emotionally and financially would he emerge in his true form and conquer the world.

 

Deep within Mark's psyche, Cornelius Sigan laughed in anticipation..

 

 

*****

 

 

Mark Cornwallis stepped out of his limousine, smoothed down the jacket of his evening suit and checked the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, making sure that his gold cuff-links, set with perfectly matched dark emeralds, were barely visible beneath the sleeve of his jacket; one didn't want to be too obvious. Yet he couldn't help but smile, wondering if anyone at the banquet tonight would have any notion of their antiquity, these being part of the treasure he'd discovered by accident in an ancient tomb.

 

That find had changed his life and not just because he now had access to untold riches, but because he'd become the person he'd always believed himself to be... a highly successful entrepreneur. Suddenly, his brain had become sharper; he'd spotted opportunities, concluded deals which had always alluded him and now he was accepted by his peers. People who had used to despise him now took note of what he had to say. In fact, they often deferred to his superiority, which gave him great satisfaction.

 

He felt that fulfilment swell his chest as he made his way inside The Mansion House, joining a line of guests heading toward the banqueting hall for the Lord Mayor of London's June dinner. Here and there he spotted a contemporary or a business contact, whom he saw fit to acknowledge, yet he was lonely, regardless of his wealth and success. For all his prosperity, he still found it difficult to make friends; always felt awkward in the company of women, and it galled him that he should retain these feelings of inadequacy. Surely this was the fault of others. People might admire his position and ever growing power, but they didn't seem to want to befriend him. Mark put it down to envy.

 

There was laughter from ahead where a number of people clustered around a tall middle-aged gentleman and his lovely partner. The surge of jealousy that choked Mark almost made him turn back. Yet he'd as much right to be here as the target of his antipathy. So, perhaps he'd found his wealth instead of working for it like Benedict Penderel, though Penderel had been born into a very rich family. And even if the man had taken his wealth and increased it a hundred fold until he appeared in the top echelons of the richest people in the world, hadn't Mark been just as wily to use the treasure he'd found to advance his position without anyone ever knowing just where it had come from? That hadn't been easy, because legally he'd been bound to report his find, yet by taking a little, bit by bit, he'd managed to use it for his own purposes.

 

Mark had no idea why he felt so sure, but he knew his secret vault was safe and always would be. He also had no idea why he disliked the Penderels so much. It was true they were everything he himself wanted to be, but that didn't explain the feelings of loathing and deep-rooted hatred, nor his determination to rob them of their power and see them lose everything they cared for. If he didn't know any better, Mark could swear they'd been enemies in a former life... which was totally crazy. Yet why did a shiver run down his spine, or a whispering voice laugh inside his head?

 

Lately, Mark had been plagued with strange dreams, had found himself in places he could swear he'd never visited, had done things which he'd never believed possible. Was he going mad? Well, if he was, it was a madness he approved of for wasn't it giving him all he'd ever wished for. Mark's star was in the ascendency and if that meant the Penderels would fall, then so much the better.

 

So intent was Mark in watching the group in front of him, he didn't see the woman who came to his side.

 

“Like bees around a honey-pot,” the blond woman said, her lilting voice pitched somewhere between awe and disapproval. “Everyone wants to bask in the shadow of the Penderels.”

 

“Bah! I don't see why they should,” Mark declared without looking at the woman. “What have they got that the rest of us haven't... apart from money?”

 

“Quite a lot of money,” the stranger laughed, throaty and somewhat dangerously. “Though I suspect it's more than that. They do have a certain charisma.”

 

At last, Mark turned to his new acquaintance, though his mind was still focussed on his rival. “I'm sorry, I fail to see it. All I see is an overbearing couple who think they're a cut above the rest of us,” he ground out angrily.

 

The lady leaned in closer. “You shouldn't speak such thoughts aloud; that's almost sacrilegious. And don't go scowling at me either, because I happen to agree with you. The Penderels have never been friends of mine.” The last was said with a hint of mystery.

 

Mark stepped back to study the woman and was surprised to find her exceedingly beautiful. From her carefully coiffured blond curls, high cheekbones and smiling mouth to her stylish silk gown and silver sandals, she was the epitome of a woman of fashion. The type of female who usually gave him a wide berth.

 

He found himself smiling back and straightening his shoulders... almost preening. “Nor of mine.”

 

“Do you know them well?” she asked, coming closer, practically intruding on his personal space, but for the first time in his memory, he didn't feel uncomfortable.

 

“Not really. I've met those two on very few occasions, though I know their son slightly better. Our paths have crossed a number of times since we're in the same business.”

 

“I've also had dealings with Arthur, though I doubt under similar circumstances. I take it from the tone of your voice that you're not a fan of the golden boy either?”

 

“Arrogant prat!” Mark said more loudly than he'd intended and a few of the guests closest to them glanced curiously at the couple. He lowered his voice. “Let's just say that he's spoiled a number of my endeavours.”

 

The woman slipped her arm through his and walked him away from the others. “As he has mine. This might not be the time or place to discuss it, but we might be able to help each other take a little revenge.”

 

The tone of her voice left Mark in no doubt she was a woman scorned, but he didn't care. He was just glad to have found an ally. However, he wanted to make sure she understood that he was the dominant partner in their efforts to take Arthur down a peg or two... and she certainly didn't have to know about his long term plans for all the Penderels. “So the little prince turned you down?”

 

“Once or twice!” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and Mark could swear they turned gold.

 

“The boy must be an idiot to resist such a stunning woman as yourself,” he said, infusing his voice with as much gallantry as he could muster. He really would have to learn how to woo a lady, as this strange woman enthralled him. Perhaps they had more in common than a need to be avenged on Arthur Penderel. With that in mind, he set out to turn on the charm. It shouldn't be too difficult. Other men seemed to do it quite naturally. Perhaps all he'd been lacking in the past was the proper incentive. He forced warmth into his smile and said confidingly. “Here we are agreeing to little plots, and yet I don't even know your name.”

 

She returned his smile, her perfect white teeth gleaming like the crystals in the chandeliers above them. “Hello. I'm Eloise Blessed.” She put out her hand, elegantly yet purposefully. This was a woman who knew what she wanted.

 

“And I'm Mark... Mark Cornwallis.” He took her hand and found himself very uncharacteristically bowing over it. “I'm very glad to know you.”

 

She accepted his old-fashioned bow with a gracious nod of her head while her laugh pealed out, echoing like a bell in the arched ceiling of the room and attracting some attention. She turned and stared imperiously at those regarding them, until they looked away. Satisfied, Eloise gave all her attention back to Mark. “You wouldn't believe how glad I am to meet you too, Mark. I think we have much in common and I'm looking forward to getting to know you.”

 

But at that point, Mark looked crestfallen. “Well, I'm pretty certain we'll have to renew our friendship at another time and place, since I doubt we'll be seated together. Perhaps we could exchange phone numbers?”

 

“We most certainly can,” Eloise agreed, but she sent him a conspiratorial smirk and Mark was almost certain her eyes flashed golden again. Could it be a reflection of the light off the gilded columns? “Who knows, perhaps the gods will be kind to us.”

 

And it was the strangest of coincidences, because when they finally took their seats, they found themselves next to each other. Mark shivered again. How weird it was that out of all the many people attending the dinner, they had found each other? For a brief moment, Mark felt fear, then something awoke in his heart and he heard the voice again.

 

_~Eloise's purpose marches with our own. Relax and enjoy the gift the Triple Goddess has bestowed upon you. Our journey to vengeance has already begun.~_

 

Mark did as he was bid, smiling and bending his head to listen to his new acquaintance's conversation. There was no doubt he was pleased... very pleased. Both he and whoever dwelt inside him.

 

Meanwhile, at their exalted position at the top table, Benedict and Ygraine Penderel were completely unaware of the toxic pact which had been forged in the hall tonight. Nor were they yet aware of their son's accident, nor his witnessing the raging waters of Easdale first hand... and they had only the smallest notion of the troubles which were about to be laid at their door.

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, you've enjoyed this chapter and please let me know your thoughts. I know my posting has been very hit and miss and that does get annoying if you're following a story. I will try to stick to my two weekly schedule in future.


	5. False Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in modern Camelot Headquarters, our boys reminisce about old times while beginning their investigation into the reason for the turbulent waters and why Arthur has returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to be on time with my post. I'm also happy to have received more kudos and I thank those of you who are reading and letting me know you're enjoying the story.

Chapter Five

 

False Trails

 

 

The day after his sojourn in Scotland, Arthur arrived at Camelot's headquarters in Cardiff at a much earlier hour than normal. Throughout the whole country, the spring rain had given way to early summer and the sun promised to burn off the few remaining clouds as the morning wore on. The glass-fronted building, the corporate home of Camelot Industries, sparkled in the sun's rays and made a halo of his golden hair as he passed through the automated doors. With a nod of salutation, he handed his car keys to the night guards at the desk, the receptionists not yet having taken over their duties, and asked them to park his car in his assigned space.

 

Then, humming slightly off tune, a song from an old musical he'd heard -- something about a beautiful morning -- he rode the elevator up to the top floor and marched smartly down the corridor to his corner office. On his way, he glanced into the still darkened antechamber to the CEO's grand council room, as he liked to call his father's suite of offices. The old man's only concession to his middle years was that he no longer showed up at the office till after 9am, meaning that Yvette, his father's long-term secretary, could also enjoy a civilised start time.

 

But there were a few dedicated staff members in the general office as he walked past, shouting a broad good morning to all. Most answered his greeting but looked slightly startled by his early arrival.

 

Gwen, however, was neither missing nor taken aback. “Good morning, Arthur,” she said, her smile as bright as the morning sun. “The report isn't in yet... and your coffee is on your desk.”

 

“Hello to you, too! Isn't it a gorgeous morning?” He returned her smile as he entered his office, crossing to his desk to lay his briefcase down and pick up his coffee. “Do you have radar or something that you know when to pour my coffee? I'm not usually in this early.”

 

Gwen followed him inside. “Neither am I, but I was sure you'd be anxious to find out the results of Rhys's tests... and since we have floor to ceiling windows, it's not difficult to see you coming across the square.”

 

He grinned. “That's why I chose the corner office. You can practically spot anyone's approach from all directions, which means I can make myself scarce if it's someone I don't want to talk to.”

 

“You think I don't know that!” Gwen said laughing, her look warm and knowing.

 

Arthur's lips thinned in mock disapproval. “Sometimes I think you know me far too well. We're almost like an old marr...ied cou... ple,” Arthur's words hung in the air, his tease lodging like a stone in his throat.

 

He really had to be more careful. Gwen didn't know of their past lives and he had to stop treating her as if they were in love with each other. Though he had to admit that was becoming more difficult by the day. The time they'd spent together in Scotland had been a revelation to Arthur and it hadn't taken him long to realise he loved Gwen... and not just because of his total recall.

 

They hadn't neglected the work they'd had to do to back up Rhys while he was testing on the islands, but they'd been alone during the days and had found time to go for walks along the loch side and through the woods where wild rhododendrons rioted in shades of pale pinks, soft lavenders and deep purples; colours which reminded him of his Queen Guinevere.

 

As the weather smiled kindly on them, they'd basked in the sun while speculating on reasons for the turbulent waters, but mostly they'd talked of their respective childhoods before they'd met, or laughed over their time at university together. They'd even discussed their current positions in Camelot Industries where circumstance had driven a certain reserve between them. The latter reminded Arthur of their early lives in Camelot when his father decreed that a prince and serving girl could never share a life... though, to be honest, his father would have no objections in this present age. It had soon come to Arthur that no matter the circumstances, he would fall in love with Gwen in every incarnation.

 

A long pregnant silence was broken by Gwen. “Us! A couple? Arthur Penderel, you're not the marrying kind! Think how many girls' hearts you'd break if you settled down.” She laughed, yet blushed under his stare, before changing the subject. “How are you feeling today? Still got your headache?”

 

“No! Woke up feeling absolutely fine this morning. Ready to get down to work as soon as we get the Easdale results from Rhys.” He ducked his head as he rounded his desk and sat back in his chair, instructing his voice-activated, state-of-the art tablet to start up. The last thing he wanted to do was discomfit Gwen.

 

However, the awkward moment was interrupted by the appearance of the very person Arthur was expecting... though not actually in person in Cardiff.

 

“Hello!” Rhys said, sticking his head around the door. “Is it OK to come in?”

 

“Sure,” Arthur replied. “Though why you're asking, I've no idea. Don't you normally just march right in?”

 

Rhys Wilson moved to the centre of the room, the look he directed at Arthur a strange mixture of embarrassment and warning. “I don't think I've ever been in here before. In fact, I've never been exalted enough to visit the top floor. Isn't it just for executives and their staff?”

 

“Get used to it, Rhys. Until further notice, you're working specifically under my jurisdiction,” Arthur said, giving a very good impression of his previous life as a king. “Though, I have to say, I didn't really expect you to bring your report in person.”

 

“I've also sent it to your tablet... but I felt I should be here to explain the results.”

 

“Right. Take a seat.” Arthur concentrated on his computer, checking his mail, but as he noticed Gwen attempt to leave, he beckoned her back. “Gwen, you should stay. You've been part of this since the beginning, so you might as well hear Rhys's findings.”

 

Having opened the specific email, which had to be said was very short and to the point, Arthur downloaded the attachment and began reading. The file seemed to contain nothing but a long list of chemicals, most of which were unfamiliar to him.

 

“OK, Rhys, what am I looking at?” Arthur sat back, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at his employee across the desk. “I take it these chemicals were found in the waters you tested? I recognise some of them,” he added, glancing back at the screen, “but there appears to be quite a cocktail there.”

 

“There is,” Rhys agreed leaning forward. “You'll find pretty much the same list if you googled the chemicals used in fracking. And a lot of them have common uses... like in anti-freeze or detergent... which is why you probably recognise them.”

 

Gwen had wandered round to read over Arthur's shoulder. After a moment, she asked, “Are you implying that fracking is the cause of the turbulence in the waters around Easdale?”

 

Arthur looked up at Gwen, then directed his steel-blue stare at Rhys. “But surely this accusation was discounted a few years ago. Besides, our nearest shale gas site is somewhere north of Glasgow... some strange name to do with a bear or something.”

 

Rhys nodded. “Bearsden, to be exact.”

 

“That's it! But that's got to be quite a distance from Easdale,” Arthur said, calling up a map of western Scotland on his tablet.

 

“About a hundred and five miles by road.” Rhys forestalled Arthur's action. “Almost fifty-seven as the crow flies.”

 

Arthur rested his chin on his fist, one of his elbows propped on the desk, and stared into the middle of nowhere, causing Merlin a pang of nostalgia. Unconsciously, this Arthur had so many of his old friend's traits.

 

Finally, Arthur spoke up, his mind focussing. “If there were to be any negative effects from the extraction, shouldn't it be in an area closer to the site? And, if my memory serves me well, we've been fracking there for a few years. Why has it taken so long for these events to occur?”

 

“Perhaps it's just taken this long for the damage to accumulate?” Gwen answered, trying to be helpful.

 

“Perhaps,” Rhys agreed, nodding again. “It is possible... but unlikely.”

 

“Rhys, we're not the only company using fracking.” Arthur sat upright. “Nor are we the only ones employing this drilling method. Has there been reports of any disturbances anywhere else?”

 

“I thought you might ask, so I did check,” Rhys replied with a tiny grin. “Apart from the usual claims from the eco-protesters, no one has reported anything of the magnitude we saw on those islands... and even there, there were differing degrees of water pollution and distortion. Plus, the only earth tremor happened when you turned up, or the only one which was noticed. Some of these islands are uninhabited, so we can't be totally sure.”

 

Arthur stood up. “Are you saying I caused it? Because that's ridiculous... I don't have mag...” He threw Gwen a troubled look, but, thankfully, she was distracted, leaning over and typing, somewhat awkwardly, on his keyboard. Arthur finished his sentence lamely. “I don't have that sort of power.”

 

_~No you don't, but someone might.~_

 

_~Then you're seriously considering this might be caused by sorcery?~_

 

_~Arthur, I warned you I'd felt a dark presence and that feeling hasn't gone away. To be honest, the tests results came out exactly the way I expected, but it's how those chemicals got there that I don't understand yet. I doubt it has anything to do with Camelot's Bearsden site.~_

 

“Rhys is right. Except for some very early complaints, which were disregarded, there's absolutely nothing on the Internet about earth tremors or water bubbling up anywhere except on the islands we visited,” Gwen announced. “Though the green-police and conspiracy theorists are having a field-day damning Camelot Industries for destabilising the earth.”

 

“Hell! They would,” Arthur growled, starting to pace. “But why us? We're not the only company extracting shale gas!”

 

“No, but we are the richest and the largest,” Gwen sympathised. “People always attack the most well known adversary.”

 

“I don't want to be anyone's adversary. Aren't we managing to keep the lights on? I'm sure they'd have a different opinion if they couldn't watch their favourite TV shows, or boil their kettles or heat their homes... and that's not counting driving their cars and flying off on their summer holidays.”

 

“Arthur, you'll always get people who'll attack you just for being who you are... and the genuine green supporters aren't interested in gadgets,” Rhys said. Actually, not that long ago, he hadn't been interested in technology either. When he'd retired from the world, he'd tried to live as simply as possible, turning his back on all things modern. However, when he'd first become aware of the looming threat and later discovered that Arthur had returned, he'd made a conscious choice to use whatever it took to safeguard his friend... and the modern Albion he assumed the Once and Future King had returned to save.

 

“I'm not so certain of that, Rhys,” Gwen announced, still tapping away at Arthur's keyboard, though now sitting comfortably in his seat. “They might decry power and energy companies, but they seem perfectly happy to use the Internet to get their ideas across. There are lots of message boards, blogs and live journals on the subject and it appears quite a number of people post on them all. They can be pretty offensive too. Look at this. There's this woman called Morgause who shows up often, and she seems particularly virulent against fracking for shale gas and Camelot Industries in particular.”

 

_~Morgause?~_ Arthur's head came up. ~ _Merlin, that can't be coincidence, can it?~_

 

_~It could be. Arthur, we can't go jumping to conclusions. It's probably just a nickname someone's picked up from the legends. We've no idea who this person really is. She might not even be a woman.~_

 

Arthur gave Rhys another disgruntled look while joining his PA at his desk. “Gwen, does she have an avatar or anything that could give us a clue to her true identity?”

 

“Not that I can tell, but then I'm no expert, though if you do want to find out I'm sure there's someone in our IT department who could help track her down.”

 

“Good idea, Gwen. Look into that for me.” As Gwen vacated his chair, Arthur sat down again, brushing against her shoulder and trying to suppress the warm feeling that ran through him at her touch. He cleared his throat. “It might be as Rhys says and it's just a coincidence, but I'd like to know if those posters are just letting off steam or are definite enemies.”

 

“Enemies?” Gwen's dark eyebrows rose, astounded. “Arthur, surely you don't think we could be dealing with eco-terrorists?”

 

“Who knows? Maybe they're rivals using the anonymity of the Internet to make life uncomfortable for us,” Arthur replied with a shrug. “But I'd like to be prepared... to find out what we're facing. Once those reports get out... and I wouldn't place any bets on them staying private, the media is going to come down on us like a ton of bricks.”

 

“Then I'd better get onto IT fast.” Gwen no longer doubted Arthur's assumption. “I'll find someone we can trust.” And with that she was gone, leaving the door ajar behind her.

 

Arthur tipped his chair back and gave Rhys a long stare. “What haven't you told me?”

 

“Nothing!” Rhys shook his head. “The results are just as you see...”

 

“How can that be? I know there's a danger of the chemicals leaking from the actual drill pipe, contaminating the earth and water table, which is why our engineers were told to take extra precautions from the get-go.” Arthur's anger and worry creased his brow as he rose once more and crossed to look out over the city. “Father made sure we employed only the very best and instructed them to keep a close check for any leaks.”

 

“There haven't been any reported. Not in the Bearsden area, nor at any of the sites north of the border.”

 

“But shouldn't there have been, if those chemicals are showing up as far away as Easdale?” Arthur asked, turning back to Rhys. “I want extensive samples taken immediately.”

 

“Actually, I've already ordered the same tests to be carried out on the water table in all the areas surrounding Camelot's Scottish operations. When I saw those results, I didn't wait.” When Arthur only stared at him, Rhys went on. “Perhaps I overstepped the mark and shouldn't have done so...”

 

“No! No. You did right. That would have been my next instruction. Though I want to take it further. I want every shale gas extraction site in the UK checked.” Arthur crossed his arms and grinned at Rhys. “You're pretty good at reading my mind. Just make sure you keep it strictly professional.”

 

“Why? Are you scared I might find out you've fallen for Gwen all over again?” Rhys's smile widened.

 

“Merlin, I haven't!” Arthur's sharp denial was undermined by the pink glow which tinted his cheeks. Merlin simply stared at him. “What?”

 

“Deny it all you want... but I know you too well, Arthur. You did exactly the same in Camelot for years.”

 

Crossing to the large leather couch which almost filled one wall, Arthur sank into the cushions like a rag doll which had lost all of its stuffing. “You're right. But at least I stood a chance back then. I've known Gwen for years. Long enough to know she sees me as nothing more than a close friend.”

 

“Close friends can fall in love,” Rhys suggested helpfully, sitting in an easy chair opposite Arthur. “I happen to think Gwen cares more than she realises. Maybe if she remembered...”

 

“No, Merlin.” Arthur's lips thinned as he faced his friend. “And you must promise to do nothing to help her remember. I tell you, there's nothing I'd like more than if Gwen could love me... but she must make her own choice.” Arthur's gaze dropped to study the carpet and his voice was full of hurt. “You know, looking back, I think Guinevere should have followed her first love and married Lancelot. Then maybe he would've had more to live for and he wouldn't have sacrificed himself for me. Gwen would have been happier... had children...”

 

“Arthur, don't do this to yourself. Both Lancelot and Gwen made their choices willingly. I know Gwen never regretted marrying you. Her only lament was that she lost you too soon.”

 

“But she was a good queen?” Arthur's blue eyes lifted again, afraid yet eager to hear how his wife had survived without him.

 

“The best,” Rhys smiled, remembering. “She ruled the way she thought you would wish her to. She did bring magic back to Camelot, after she found out I'd confessed to you and you wanted me to be...”

 

“Always you!” Arthur rested his head back on the leather. “I recall telling you that I didn't want you to change. Did you tell Guinevere you had magic?”

 

“I didn't have to. She guessed.”

 

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “Gwen was always more perceptive than I. So you didn't have to hide anymore? I'm glad about that.” There was a moment's poignant silence between the two men; Rhys waiting for Arthur to gather his courage to ask more questions. Finally, one came. “Did she marry again?”

 

“No. She never did, though she'd many opportunities. Too many, perhaps, and not all her suitors were pleased to take no for an answer.”

 

The one-time king straightened and stood in one fluid movement, fast as a flick-knife. “Who tried to force her?”

 

“Arthur, it all happened so long ago, and no one succeeded. Gwen had the full support of the knights and the council... and myself and Gaius. Believe me, she wasn't on her own.”

 

There was another moment of silence as Arthur considered Merlin's words. “Thank you for that. So she ruled alone? I wouldn't have minded if she'd fallen in love again with someone worthy of her. Perhaps had children. I've read most of the books written about the legends of King Arthur and I know I was the last of the Pendragon line.” Arthur absent-mindedly turned the white gold ring he wore on the small finger of his right hand. “Mind you, since I've got my memories back, most of what I've read doesn't bear much resemblance to the truth. For a start, they've got you down as an old man!” He ended on another laugh, though this one was quieter.

 

“And some have you living till you're middle-aged.” Rhys mused. “It was strange how over the years the truth was lost and people wrote what they wanted to believe... There was one writer got something correct... though I'm not sure I should tell you.”

 

Arthur moved to stand over Rhys. “What? Tell me... everything.”

 

Before talking, Rhys searched Arthur's face, his eyes boring into his friend's very soul. “Gwen did have a child... your child. A boy.”

 

“I had a son?” Now the pain in Arthur's voice was palpable and he leaned his hand on his friend's shoulder, as if he needed support. “There were children in the stories... but they were from me with other women. Now I know that's not true. Guinevere was the only woman I ever loved.”

 

Rhys nodded. “I know. But Guinevere had your son, posthumously. She called him Llacheu, but he died when he was a child.” Rhys paused, wondering whether he should continue. Arthur was pale, his lips pulled into a tight line, but he seemed resolute. “I'm sorry, Arthur. There was a terrible illness spread through Camelot... probably something akin to dysentery. Children and the old were most at risk. Gaius did his best... and I was in Ealdor at the time because my mother was dying. By the time I came home, Llacheu was gone. I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish I could have spared Gwen that pain. I don't think she ever truly recovered from his loss... not on top of yours. She died a few years later.”

 

“Oh God! Poor Guinevere.” The catch in Arthur's voice was audible and his eyes were awash with tears. He had always wanted a child... a son and heir. How often he'd envisaged watching him grow; playing with him as a toddler, showing him how to ride his first pony, and when the time came, teaching him how to use a sword... how to rule a kingdom... “Damn it all! Why couldn't I have lived?” His grasp on Merlin's shoulder tightened unconsciously till the young man couldn't suppress a groan.

 

Immediately, Arthur freed Rhys, shame shaking him to his core and driving him back to his seat on the couch. “Rhys, I'm so sorry! You'll probably have a bruise.” He pointed at the creased material of Rhys's shirt where his hand had rested.

 

“Don't worry. I'm tougher than I look,” Rhys reaffirmed, remembering the night when he'd lowered his prince on a rope outside his chamber window.

 

Arthur's eyes took on a faraway look. “And I'm not just sorry for that... I don't blame you for my dying. You tried everything you could to keep me alive. I was the one who couldn't hold on.” Once again, Arthur dropped his head into his hands, his anxious fingers threading through his hair.

 

“Arthur, that was so long ago and we can't change the past... Remember, we made a pact. You're back now... and we have to find out what terrible danger Albion is facing and try to put it right...” Rhys's eyes caught the glint of silver metal amongst the strands of Arthur's blond hair. He veered off the subject as he asked, “Arthur, where did you get that ring?”

 

“What ring?” Arthur lifted his head and glanced at his fingers, before turning to Rhys with a frown.

 

“The one on your pinkie. It's white gold with engraved bands encircling it... and I'm guessing it's pretty old.”

 

“It is... but what has a ring got to do with anything?” But as Rhys continued to stare at the piece of jewellery, he chose to explain. “My mother likes browsing through antique shops. I was with her one day, when I saw this and felt drawn to it -- I have absolutely no idea why -- so she bought it for me. She likes buying us little gifts, one of her endearing qualities,” he added with a reflective smile. “The ring's too small really. Probably belonged to a woman.”

 

Arthur's gaze flew to his open door where he could hear Gwen talking on the phone while, in his mind's eye, an image from long ago drifted into being. He saw a picture of a small room lit with a multitude of candles, gleaming softly on Guinevere's tumbled curls, her hand outstretched as he pushed a ring onto her finger.

 

“Oh, my God! It's Guinevere's wedding ring. Why didn't I recognise that before?”

 

“Probably because you only got your memory back a few days ago. It's a lot to process,” Rhys said with a great deal of sympathy. “Arthur, I know you want to talk about your old life and what happened to all your loved ones after you died. And I'm not saying that we can't do that someday. But right now, I think it's more important to concentrate on the present.”

 

“The reason for those sample results?” Arthur pulled himself together. “I know, Rhys. The legend was that I would return when Albion needed me most, so I guess we better figure out what we're facing and what we have to do to put it right... if that's possible.”

 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed but added with concern. “But there's more than that, or it's probably all part of the same thing. We do need to talk about your family. Your father... Morgana?”

 

“Anna?” Arthur's eyebrows shot up. “Why didn't I think of her? You think she's still a witch in this reincarnation?”

 

Rhys shrugged his thin shoulders. “I've no idea. I've never met her, so I wouldn't know. And your family is very different this time round,” he pointed out with a small smile. “The important change is that your mother is still alive and I'm assuming your father doesn't have a paranoid hatred of magic.”

 

“I doubt he even thinks about it. He certainly doesn't believe in it,” Arthur answered, smoothing his ruffled hair. “But they did have problems getting pregnant. I was born through IVF this time... not magic... and my mother had a very difficult birth. She haemorrhaged. She almost died, and though they saved her life she couldn't ever have another child. My mother is the best... and it broke her heart.”

 

“Morgana is adopted?”

 

“Yes!” Arthur pushed up from the couch and went to stand by the huge window. “As far as I know, this time around she's not related by blood to any of my family.” He swung to face Rhys, leaning his back against the glass. “My mother desperately wanted another child, so she persuaded my father that they should adopt a baby. They wanted a new born and, being rich and influential, Benedict Penderel had no doubt they'd find one. However, in the meantime, a fourteen month old baby girl was left orphaned by a car accident. Both her parents and grandmother were killed. She was the only survivor and it seemed she didn't have any other family. The representative from the adoption agency asked my mother if she'd be interested. Of course, my mother's kind heart was touched and she got my father to go with her to visit the toddler. Both of them fell in love with little Anna... we never call her Morgana... and pretty soon she became one of our family. I can barely remember a time when she wasn't with us.”

 

“Do you get along with her?”

 

“Like most siblings, I suppose. We fight some, we laugh some and we look out for each other.” Arthur sounded a little defensive for a second or two before he sighed. “I guess you never had a sister or brother. I'm sorry, Merlin. Your life must've been so lonely. I can't imagine...”

 

A hint of tears clung to Rhys's eyelashes. Lonely didn't express the despair he'd experienced during some parts of his long life. “You were the only brother I ever had... and I lost you.”

 

At once Arthur was by Merlin's side, his hand resting lightly on the shoulder he'd crushed earlier. “I felt that way, too, and I'm sorry I never told you. You're right. I was a prat and I wouldn't let myself admit how much you meant to me. Not till it was too late.” He hooked his hand behind Merlin's neck and shook his friend in a gesture very similar to Camelot days. “But we're back together again. I'm not a prince and you're not a servant; there's no reason why we can't be close friends.”

 

“I do still work for you,” Rhys reminded him.

 

“Merlin! You never let our different status stop you from telling me what to do in the past and I'm pretty sure you won't do now. And the class divide isn't as important as it was back then. Besides, I was the king who married a serving girl... and knighted commoners, which didn't go down well with my father.”

 

“How would it go down with your father this time around?” Rhys asked as the thought occurred to him.

 

Arthur's lips pouted. “Actually, he's still an arrogant sod who tends to think he's always right, yet he likes Gwen. Every time I introduce him to my latest girlfriend, he keeps asking me why I can't find a nice sensible, intelligent girl like Gwen... and my mother loves her. I'm sure they'd both be thrilled if I were to ask Gwen to marry me. Pity it's only Gwen who wouldn't be happy.”

 

“You don't know that.”

 

“Rhys, don't! Leave Gwen alone. She comes to me of her own accord, or not at all!”

 

“I've already promised, but I'm sure you're wrong about Gwen's feelings. And don't you think she has a right to know...” But at Arthur's warning frown, Rhys decided to give up trying to matchmake... for now. “OK. Stop giving me that look! One thing, though, it's clear your family has changed, so perhaps Morgana... sorry Anna might not have magic, and even if she did, there's no reason for her to turn to the dark side.”

 

“I hope you're right, Rhys. I'd seriously hate to battle against Anna. She's my sister and I do love her, but don't tell her I said that because she'd wrap me around her little finger.”

 

There was a rich feminine laugh as Gwen came into the room again. “You mean she doesn't do that already?”

 

Both men turned to her with differing expressions; Arthur's resigned and Rhys's surprised. It seemed to him that Gwen was fairly well acquainted with all of the Penderels even if she wasn't Arthur's girlfriend.

 

“Well, she does try,” Arthur admitted with a grimace. “But I don't always give in!”

 

“True!” Yet a smile still lingered on Gwen's lips. “Anyway, back to work. I've found someone in IT who is able and willing to help you. He'll come by around lunchtime. His name's Matthew Davidson and I'm told he's a wizard when it comes to technology.”

 

At the word wizard, both men froze and Gwen glanced from one to the other. “Did I say something wrong? I did check our employment records and he appears to be the best but, if you want someone else,” she said, pointing back to her office, “I could arrange it. Just let me get back to my source in IT.”

 

“No, Gwen. That won't be necessary,” Arthur replied, forcing a laugh. “I'm sure Davidson will be fine.”

 

“Good. I'll get back to work then.” She turned to leave, but threw over her shoulder. “Arthur, you haven't forgotten you're invited to dinner at your parents' home this weekend?”

 

“No, of course not. Anna arrives home Friday. It's a dinner to celebrate her return, which is why you're invited, Gwen. You haven't forgotten, have you?” he returned with a smug smile.

 

“No! Why would I? I spoke to Anna on Skype last night and she reminded me, as if I needed reminding my best friend is coming home!” With a final smile at her boss, she left, closing the door with a solid click.

 

Rhys's eyebrows shot up questioningly as he gazed at Arthur. “Yes, Rhys! There's a lot more similarities to our old life than you know. The first time I brought Gwen home from university, she and Anna got on like a house on fire, and nothing's changed to this day. They conspire against me, I swear it! You have no idea how many prospective wives they've thrown in my direction over the years. Now I know why they've never succeeded. If I can't have Gwen, I'm destined to remain a bachelor.”

 

“You said that last time as well, and look how wrong you were.”

 

“So I did!” A faint spark of hope lit Arthur's eyes for a moment till reality set in. He shook himself. “Rhys, stop it. That's only wishful thinking and I won't have you remind Gwen of our past lives. If she remembers by herself then that would be great, but that's the way it has to be.” Arthur went back to his desk and picked up Rhys' report. “Now perhaps we can get back to trying to discover why these chemicals are really showing up in those waters,” he said, sitting down and waving Rhys to take the chair opposite. “Could someone have deliberately contaminated those pools?”

 

“For that amount of solution per water quantity, it wouldn't be easy,” Rhys said, leaning back in his chair and staring contemplatively at the sky outside. Within moments, he shook his head. “Nah! I mean no one disguised as a visitor could just stroll around all these ponds and drop like... say a couple of two litre water bottles of the stuff into the quarry and even that wouldn't have been enough to show that amount of contamination,” he finished, pointing at the list. “Not to mention some of these islands are uninhabited. Getting to them isn't so easy.”

 

“I'm sure anyone with a boat could visit those empty islands after dark and do whatever they wanted. But Easdale is different. The inhabitants are pretty knowledgeable and I'm sure they'd notice anything untoward... Unless utility workmen! They have electricity and phone lines on Easdale. Perhaps whoever did this disguised themselves that way.” Arthur was reaching for his intercom as he spoke.

 

“Wait, Arthur!” Rhys forestalled his boss. “Alice... I mean Fiona... would know something like that. She's a gossipy old lady who probably knows about most everything that goes on there. She gave me her number.”

 

Rhys had the number on speed dial and within seconds a trilling ring could be heard repeating and repeating. The two men had almost given up on being able to contact Fiona at present when her voice soft, but somewhat breathless, came over the line. “Rhys,” she stated, using his modern name. “I'm sorry I took so long to answer, but I've been in the garden gathering herbs.”

 

Arthur smirked at Rhys. How often had Merlin used that excuse in Camelot when he was off doing something magical and therefore nefarious?

 

“Has something happened?” Fiona asked.

 

“Nothing unexpected, but we got the test results and they suggest Camelot's fracking operations might be involved, but we doubt it.”

 

“I think so too!” Fiona sounded as if a shiver had coursed through her body. “Rhys, I took a walk around the island yesterday and I sensed the presence of darkness.”

 

“The waters are still bubbling?”

 

“No! They're calm... too calm and black, like the Pool of Nemhain. The hairs at the back of my neck rose up. There is something evil in those waters and I doubt it's only chemicals.”

 

Since Rhys had switched to speaker phone, Arthur joined the conversation. “Fiona, it's Arthur. Rhys has told me all about you, so it's nice to talk with you again... more pleasant than our first meeting,” Arthur said, knowing this old lady would interpret his true meaning. “I'd like to thank you for allowing me into your home the other day when I was hurt, and I'm sorry to impose on you further, but we were hoping you could help us.”

 

“Anything you need. Please! Neither of you should be afraid to ask...”

 

“Fiona, Rhys here again. We were wondering if there have been any workmen on the island lately... you know, electricity or maybe a phone company? Anyone who could smuggle a batch of chemicals onto Easdale to contaminate the water?”

 

There was a pause as Fiona appeared to think. “No. I'm afraid not. And as I very seldom leave the island for any length of time, I would have noticed. Not only that, in a close community like ours everyone gossips about such things and there's been no mention of work being done.”

 

“Not even anyone having repairs or alterations done on their houses?” Arthur suggested.

 

“Arthur, we're also a very self-sufficient bunch and everyone tends to help each other out. We seldom need to call in strangers. I'm pretty sure I'd know if any type of workmen had arrived on the island.” There was another pause, till Fiona spoke again. “Mind you, there were some visitors... A boat stopped on its way north. Now that isn't all that strange an occurrence, but this one I remember. It happened a week or so ago. The people got off, had a look at the slate quarries, went to the museum, stopped for lunch then sailed away. Most tourists arrive by the ferry, but these must have been rich folks, judging by their yacht. Caused quite a stir amongst the locals at the time.”

 

“I would expect quite a lot of boats berth in Easdale,” Rhys mused, putting his mobile on Arthur's desk. “Isn't your part of the world a favourite place amongst Britain’s sailing fraternity?”

 

“The west coast is, but most of them bypass Easdale in favour of some of the bigger islands. Besides, they didn't look like your normal yachting folk.”

 

“Do you know how many people were on-board, or any idea who they were?” Arthur asked, his voice sharp and eager.

 

“I believe there were four of them... and one was a woman. Very pretty and blonde. Probably a city girl as she didn't look very comfortable wandering around the island in her designer clothes. But apart from that, I have no idea who they were. They didn't stay long. I could ask at the cafe if they have any ideas.”

 

“Thanks, Fiona,” Rhys answered. “We'd be grateful for any information you can give us.”

 

“Fiona, we'll probably be back on the island soon.” Arthur took over the conversation again. “If we can't find any plausible reason for the chemicals in the water, then I'd like to do some hands on exploration. Do I need permission to go diving in those quarries?”

 

“I don't think so. Just as long as you're not going to do any damage, I think you're fine.”

 

“Good,” Arthur replied quickly but not unkindly. “Thanks for your help. Rhys and I better get back to work... and we'll let you know when we're visiting again.”

 

“You're welcome and I look forward to seeing you both. Oh, and Arthur, bring that pretty assistant of yours. I'd love to meet her too.”

 

Arthur glanced pointedly at Rhys, his eyebrows lifting. Rhys grinned and shrugged.

 

Fiona's chuckle came over the line. “And don't go blaming Merlin for telling tales. I saw you both when you brought her to the island. Isn't it romantic that you and Guinevere have found each other again... Cheerio for now!”

 

And before Arthur could form a reply, the connection was cut.

 

Arthur stared dagger-like at the mobile before saying, “Rhys, you better warn her not to say a thing to Gwen. Like I said, I want her to make her own choices and not be prompted by witches or wizards.”

 

“I'll do my best, but you know what these old witches are like...” Rhys assured, still wearing a puckish grin.

 

“Actually, I don't. The only ones I knew about back in the day were trying to get me killed and I only learnt about you and good magic two days before I died. This whole helpful thing is a completely new experience.”

 

“I suggest you get used to it pretty quick.” Rhys became serious once more. “I get the feeling we're going to experience good and bad sorcery in the near future.”

 

“Sounds like fun!” Arthur laughed, collapsing back in his chair, though there was little mirth in his tone.

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter. See you in two weeks!


	6. Revelations and Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet up with a few more old acquaintances but perhaps they are not as they once were.
> 
> Again, telepathic speech is in ~...~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again, but this time I'm only a day late in posting. I hope you're not too disappointed with me. Please enjoy.

Chapter Six

 

 

Revelations and Surprises

 

 

“OK, Rhys, we've established the chemicals might have been deliberately dumped... or they've been created by sorcery, which I still have a hard job accepting, but if it's neither of these reasons do you have any other suggestions?” Arthur asked, ensconced in his desk chair and taking another bite from his sandwich. They had ordered an early lunch in his office so they could continue working.

 

“There could be another possibility, but it's almost as unbelievable as magic...” Rhys halted, as he sat on the edge of the sofa and stared out the window at the buildings edging the city's skyline.

 

“Please, go on,” Arthur prompted. “I'm open to any ideas.”

 

Rhys glanced back at Arthur. “You know it could still be some sort of leakage from the Bearsden site.”

 

“Apart from that one,” Arthur said, pointing his smoked salmon bagel at Rhys and frowning. “I understand leakages, though that would mean our drill-master wasn't doing his job correctly. Any seepage would show up around the drill site and, according to the call I made to them earlier, they've been making regular checks which have all been clear.”

 

“We don't know the latest results though.”

 

Arthur set his food aside and stood up. “Rhys, even if there was some sort of link between Bearsden and these islands off the coast of Argyll, surely it would've taken some time for that pollution to spread.”

 

“I suppose...”

 

“Unless you're confirming a myth I heard years ago.”

 

“Which myth?”

 

“The Loch Ness and Loch Morar monster one,” Arthur grinned, slightly mockingly. “Didn't someone propose these deep highland lochs were connected by subterranean tunnels or something?”

 

“Right, that one.” Rhys leaned back on the couch, putting his hands behind his head. “I suppose I could always ask.”

 

“Ask who?” Arthur spread his hands. “I thought it was only a theory... unless some of your geologist friends have any knowledge...”

 

“Nah! I wouldn't call her a geologist, though she does know a lot of stuff. If she's still around, of course.”

 

“Stop being mysterious, Merlin, and tell me who you're talking about.” Arthur was losing his patience fast.

 

“Nessie... though technically, that isn't her name...”

 

Arthur strode over to the couch to tower over Rhys. “You're trying to tell me the Loch Ness Monster is real?”

 

“Yes. And you knew her in your past life, though you were never really introduced.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Arthur tried and almost succeeded in looking threatening, only it seemed that Rhys wasn't the impressionable type.

 

“Her name's Aithusa and you knew her as the white dragon.”

 

Arthur looked totally shell-shocked. “Morgana's dragon? The one who attacked us?”

 

“Ah, but she was never Morgana's dragon. I admit they did have a very close relationship, forged in The Sarrum of Amata's dungeon. However, Morgana isn't a dragonlord, but I am.”

 

Arthur collapsed on the couch, shaking his head. “Of course you are. You stopped the dragon at Camlann. You probably stopped the Great Dragon, too.”

 

“I did. Balinor was my father; his gift passed to me when he died.”

 

“So, I didn't kill the dragon?”

 

“No. While you were unconscious, I sent Kilgarrah away with orders not to hurt Camelot again.”

 

Giving a side-ways glance at his once and future friend and warlock, Arthur enquired, “Are there anymore secrets you have to tell me?”

 

There was a moment or two of silence as Rhys reviewed his confessions. “Nothing I can think of for now, though I'm sure we'll come across quite a few others in time. But, Arthur, I do promise to be honest with you in this life. I mean, it's not like your father can have me executed for sorcery this time around.”

 

That statement surprised a bark of laughter from Arthur. “You don't think so? And how do you think he's going to take it when I tell him the leakage is caused by magic? He might not execute us, but he'll have us both committed to the funny farm!”

 

Rhys's lips twitched in acknowledgement, but whatever he might have said was pre-empted by a knock at the door and Gwen entered with a young man trailing in her wake.

 

“Hi, guys,” Gwen said brightly. “This is Matthew Davidson from IT. I could just have sent him in, but he looked a little shy and awkward to be entering the 'throne room', so I thought I'd offer him backup. After all, you don't bite.”

 

Arthur groaned silently at Gwen's choice of words; there were times he wondered whether she really did remember the past and chose not to admit it. And, if that were the case, in Arthur's eyes that meant she didn't want to acknowledge the love they'd shared. In a self-pitying moment when he'd revealed his fears to Rhys, his friend had poured scorn on the notion and reinstated his opinion that Gwen's love for Arthur in the present was as clear as the nose on his face and he was a stupid horse's... backside not to see it!

 

Yet Arthur's thoughtful meanderings came to an abrupt end at the sight of his previously unknown employee. The chestnut curls might be a cut differently and he might be a few years older, but there could be no mistaking the man who stood before them.

 

_~Mordred?!~_ Arthur heard Rhys's shocked question reverberate inside his head, but was unable to answer for some seconds, having been literally robbed of speech both vocal and telepathic. 

 

_~Arthur!~_ Rhys warned, trying to smile at the newcomer. ~ _Stay focused!~_

 

With a slight grin sent in Rhys' direction, Arthur proved he was as capable at his present job as he had been as king. “Mr Davidson, welcome. I'm Arthur Penderel,” he continued, holding out his hand for Mordred... no, Matthew to shake. “And this is my associate Rhys Wilson... actually, he's a geologist working on a particular project for me; a project in which I hope you might also play a part.”

 

_~Sire! What are you doing? You trusted him once before and he betrayed you.~_ Merlin's worried voice rang in Arthur's ear.

 

Arthur's smile remained in place as Mordred shook his proffered hand, while he replied directly to his friend's mind. ~ _That's true, though perhaps this Mordred has no knowledge of magic in this lifetime just like Anna and my father. But don't worry, I'm not about to trust him blindly this time around... and if he is an enemy, I'd rather have him under our eye. If he is evil and thinks we're completely oblivious to his intentions...~_

 

_~But that's just it. Mordred knew Emrys was immortal. If he has any memories, he'll know I know!~_

 

_~True, but I doubt he's aware that I know your true identity. I'll pretend I'm as oblivious as I was over a thousand years ago, at least until we find out whether he's trustworthy or not. Now smile and shake his hand!~_

 

Uncharacteristically, Rhys did as he was told, shaking Matthew's hand and saying hello, while he heard Arthur in his mind again.

 

_~And don't call me sire! There's no need. I'm not a king and friends are equal!~_

 

The warlock's grin widened at those words. He understood Arthur meant every one... till Rhys annoyed him, then he could do a very good impression of his royal highness of Camelot. Meanwhile, Matthew was speaking and Rhys decided he needed to keep his wits about him.

 

“I'd be happy to help in any way I can, Mr Penderel,” Matthew stated glancing between the two men, but whether in recognition or simple politeness, neither Rhys nor Arthur could say. “My boss told me you need my computer skills?”

 

“That's true,” Arthur answered, waving Matthew to sit on the couch, while he balanced himself at the opposite end on the wide arm of the sofa. “We need you to find the identity of someone who writes on a number of web sites and message boards under an alias. Whoever it is clearly doesn't approve of Camelot Industries... in fact, that's a bit of an understatement, as you'll see when you read her posts.”

 

“What's she got against Camelot?” Matthew asked adding quickly, “And what's her nick?”

 

“Morgause!” Rhys joined the conversation. “And she seems to blame Camelot Industries for exacerbating the planet's extreme weather, in particular the extraction of shale gas.”

 

“She knows her Arthurian Legends then,” Matthew said with a frown. “Though Morgause isn't always Arthur's enemy. Sometimes she was his friend and ally and even a relation. It depends on which version you're reading.”

 

Arthur exchanged a glance with Rhys and directed his thoughts to the warlock. ~ _If he does remember, it seems he's not about to tell us.~_

 

_~Arthur, be careful. Mordred was a Druid which means he can talk telepathically too.~_

 

_~He can overhear us?~_ Arthur's eyebrows rose alarmingly, though he quickly assumed a deadpan expression as he spoke aloud. “Well, this one is definitely no friend to Camelot. Can you trace her... or him?”

 

“Depends how clever she is, but don't worry. No one has ever proved too good for me yet,” Matthew announced with a quiet confidence which reminded both Arthur and Merlin of Sir Mordred. The Druid had been a loyal friend to his king and the knights, though he had turned against them in the end.

 

“I admire your self-assurance,” Arthur commented, an edge of doubt audible in his voice, but he forced a smile to his face. “Gwen can fill you in on the details and what we already know about Morgause, which isn't much. Any help you can give us will be much appreciated.”

 

“Don't worry, Mr Penderel,” Matthew said with a grin and stuck out his hand again as he got up to leave. “You can rely on me to fill in the blanks.”

 

“Good!” Arthur accepted the second handshake. “But, please, call me Arthur. When anyone calls me Mr Penderel in this building, I expect to see my father looking over my shoulder. But, Matthew, there is one thing... I would appreciate if we kept this research between ourselves. In fact, I'll have HR set up a work station for you in the outer office, that's if you don't mind, Gwen?” he asked, offering his PA an apologetic smile. He'd no idea where the strange feeling came from, but he had the distinct impression that this operation should remain private, at least, among the four of them.

 

“No. That's fine. The space is far too big for just me...” Gwen agreed, smiling back at Arthur, causing him to reflect that he was lucky to have her in his life, even though she wasn't in love with him. “And if Matthew feels he needs some privacy, perhaps you could have them put up one of those screens.”

 

“That's a good idea!” Arthur said, feeling grateful for his ever smart PA, because there was actually a fair amount of other confidential work which Arthur required Gwen to do. Now that she was going to be sharing an office... even with a partition... they really ought to discuss such matters in the privacy of his room. It seemed every cloud did have a silver lining!

 

Arthur blushed and moved back behind his desk to cover his embarrassment. Since the day he'd met Rhys, he'd warned him to do nothing which might remind Gwen of her past life in Camelot and here he was manipulating her into spending more time with him. On the other hand, if she were to fall for him of her own accord, then he wasn't going to complain. Hell, he'd feel like he'd won the lottery! Not that he needed to win the lottery... but he was sure it would cause most ordinary people to feel euphoric.

 

For a moment he wondered how it would be to be poor. In both his lives he'd been born into a position of privilege and prosperity. Was he such an arrogant ass that he'd taken his pampered lives for granted until Merlin had dropped into his orbit from out of the blue, forcing him to take a good look at himself... and not exactly liking what he saw?

 

Over a millennium ago, Merlin and Gwen had shaped him into the King Arthur who had become a legend. Yet he wasn't exactly the same person in this incarnation as he'd been in Camelot days.

 

While he did enjoy the good things in life, his mother had been a levelling influence on him, teaching him not to take for granted the prestige his birth had bestowed on him. Till that momentous day on Easdale, when Merlin had fished him out of the tarn, he'd had no inkling of the responsibilities he'd once shouldered as a king; however he was conscious of the duty he owed to his family, his friends and the people who worked for him.

 

The tabloid media might portray Arthur Penderel as a rich playboy -- and he had, on occasion, taken a devilish delight in living up to that reputation -- but the truth was that he disliked recognition, preferring to get on with doing the job he was paid for. Nevertheless, he was uncomfortable with the fact that he'd been brought back for some specific reason which remained unknown... and he had no idea if he was even capable of living up to the legend.

 

A few days ago he'd thought legends were simply fairy tales... but now it seemed he was about to meet another myth. As soon as Gwen and Matthew had left their presence, Rhys decided there was no time like the present to go question Aithusa.

 

“So we're taking a trip back to Scotland now?” Arthur enquired and as Rhys nodded, he picked up his phone. “Fine. I'll order the jet. We can land at the airport in Inverness and take a hired car from there. Do you actually know where to find her?”

 

“I might, but she moves around a lot... keeps a low profile... just in case.”

 

Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, Arthur asked, his brows lifting. “In case of what?”

 

“Arthur, she's a dragon! OK, so people think she's the Loch Ness Monster... and as long as that remains a mystery, she's safe. What do you think would happen to her if it became common knowledge that Nessie was more than a myth?”

 

“They'd stick her in a zoo and make an exhibit of her... Not such a good idea,” Arthur declared, the corner of his lips turning down as he contemplated that fate, but he was distracted when a voice on the other end of the line said hello.

 

Arthur quickly gave instructions to the pilot of Camelot Industries' private jet to have the aircraft ready for take off as soon as possible and to file a flight plan to Inverness airport. A short conversation followed on who would be joining him on the journey... and, though he wasn't sure when they'd be returning, he didn't imagine the trip would last more than a day. Then, because the guy was a friend who played football alongside Arthur in the firm's charity soccer team, he spent a few minutes chatting before hanging up.

 

“Right, that's done, but I think we have time for you to meet my father. He'll want to know what we've found out, and you're the expert...”

 

“We haven't found out anything conclusive,” Rhys objected, his pale skin blanching further. “Perhaps you should talk to him yourself.”

 

“Don't be such a girl, Rhys. My father's not a tyrant this time around... well not so much!”

Arthur grinned as he passed Rhys on his way to the door. “Come on!”

 

Gwen was alone in the outer office as Arthur and Rhys walked through, the PA informing them that all was in order for Matthew's transfer and his desk and IT equipment should be set up by tomorrow morning.

 

“Great, Gwen. You're a star!” Arthur smiled, then hesitated. “Actually, Gwen, Rhys and I probably won't be here till lunch time. We're flying back up to Scotland this afternoon to do some more research and I doubt we'll be back till very late tonight. I can rely on you to hold down the fort and deal with Matthew, can't I?” At Gwen's nod, he dragged Rhys towards the door, calling over his shoulder. “Thanks. We're on our way to see my father, but we'll stop by to say cheerio and I'll deal with anything you think is urgent before we go.”

 

There had been one crazy second as Gwen smiled up at him that Arthur had been tempted to kiss her. Instead, he'd offered her a dumb wave, slung an arm round Rhys' shoulder and marched him in the direction of his father's lair!

 

 

*****

 

 

“Don't look so worried, Rhys. My father has a meeting in the city this afternoon, so he can only spare us a few minutes.” Arthur tried to calm his friend as it was clear Rhys was wary of meeting Benedict Penderel who was reputed to be a bit of a martinet with his staff. “Mother called me last night to see how I was feeling and she said father wanted to meet you to thank you for saving my life. Talk about deja vu!”

 

They'd reached the large outer doors to the offices of the CEO, which Merlin decided looked somewhat reminiscent to the entrance of Camelot's council chambers; only in this current time Penderel's inner office was guarded by a lone middle-aged woman who was dressed rather severely in a grey tailored suit. Yet her stern countenance was as formidable as the medieval sentries with their wicked looking halberds who used to guard the citadel.

 

However, as Arthur entered, her expression softened into a smile. “Hello, young man,” she said, her term of address that of an old and trusted retainer. “I hear you've been getting yourself into trouble again. I'm glad to see you looking so well.”

 

“I fell into a pond, Katrina, and banged my head. It's not like I was in danger of losing my life.”

 

“Well, you gave your parents quite a scare.”

 

“I'm sorry, but I didn't exactly do it on purpose,” Arthur explained, looking slightly abashed, before changing the subject. “Is he ready to see us?”

 

“Mr Penderel is finishing a conference call with your uncle in New York. Then I have to get his signature on a couple of documents.” Katrina shuffled some papers into files and stood up. “Just give us a few moments. Your father's anxious to meet your friend and I'd also like to add my thanks to Mr Wilson for keeping you safe.”

 

“Sorry, my manners. My mother would have me strung up. Katrina, I'd like you to meet Rhys... Rhys, Katrina, my father's long suffering secretary.”

 

“Arthur! Your father isn't at all bad to work for and you know it,” Katrina objected, though her lips twitched in a grin, softening her expression. “He just likes things to be... well organized, which is why I have to get these papers to him. Excuse me...”

 

With that she disappeared into her boss's office and Rhys let out a huge sigh. “She's not anything like Lady Katrina, or a troll.”

 

“I knew that's what you were expecting,” Arthur chuckled, sitting down in an arm chair and crossing an ankle over his other knee, clearly at ease with waiting around for an audience with his father. “You know, Merlin, perhaps not everyone gets reincarnated.”

 

“True, and out of the people we've discovered so far you're the only one who's remembered our past lives,” Rhys pointed out, standing in the centre of the room, still too nervous to sit down.

 

At that comment, Arthur frowned. “Rhys, you do think Gwen will be safe with Mordred... I mean Matthew? Perhaps I should have found him somewhere else to work.”

 

“Or you could always move Gwen into your office,” Rhys suggested with a smirk.

 

But clearly Arthur was too worried to appreciate the tease. “But I'll be in Scotland... Who's going to protect her till I get back?”

 

“Arthur, we'll be back sometime tomorrow, and we don't know that she needs protecting. Matthew seems to be a straight up guy. Besides, Mordred liked Gwen... and you, until you condemned Kara to death.”

 

“I haven't killed anyone this time around,” Arthur stated firmly with a shiver of dread. Clearly, this Arthur had no experience of actual combat, his competitive spirit only surfacing on the football pitch or polo field. “And we don't even know if there is a Kara. Maybe I should ask him?”

 

“Why would you do that?” Rhys asked, somewhat surprised at Arthur's audacity. “If this is Mordred, we don't want to jog his memory.”

 

“Don't worry! I'll just have a general... chat...”

 

But the two men's conversation was interrupted by Katrina exiting Benedict's office and announcing, “Your father will see you now.”

 

Arthur rose, smirking at Rhys who shot him a grimace, balanced somewhere between disapproving and mortal fear, but as Arthur strolled through the double doors, Rhys swallowed hard and followed.

 

The office was large, which didn't surprise Rhys, but it was more simply decorated than he'd expected. It was also divided between the old and the new. There was a large picture window on one wall behind a huge, heavy wooden desk which Rhys thought might have had its origins in Victorian times. As in Arthur's office, a three piece lounge suite was situated to the left, while a bookshelf covered the side wall, one shelf dedicated to happy family photographs.

 

On Benedict's desk there was a portrait photo of a blonde woman, who Rhys had once seen in a ruined castle conjured by Morgause, so long ago. The only art piece which adorned the wall was, strangely, a large painting of a stylised dragon that reminded Rhys of Camelot's shield, though wasn't an exact copy.

 

The other side of the office was devoted to a bank of computer screens which probably linked up to various Camelot organizations throughout the world. Rhys detected the slight sizzle and buzz in the air which always emanated from multiple high-tech appliances, though went unnoticed by normal humans.

 

Benedict Penderel was seated in a comfortable leather chair at his desk, but he rose ponderously as Arthur and Rhys entered, holding out his hand to his son.

 

“Come in, Arthur,” he instructed with a smile, a smile of sincere pleasure which Rhys had rarely noticed on the face on Uther Pendragon.

 

The older man's glance shifted to Rhys and the smile slipped, but only a very little. Mr Penderel had had his secretary research this particular employee, as he would any staff member who worked closely with his son. He might be slightly uncomfortable with Rhys Wilson's lowly background... an orphan who'd been brought up by his now deceased grandfather, but he did admire the intelligence and dedication of the same young man who'd earned such distinguished qualifications and kudos in his chosen field.

 

Of course, Benedict didn't know that the grandfather had actually been Merlin himself, who'd let his body grow old... and not so gracefully... in the ancient cottage near Glastonbury Tor and, who by a combination of magic and a thorough study of technology, had created his latest identity. An identity and past which Rhys sincerely believed was infallible.

 

But, as Arthur was introducing his father to Rhys, he pulled himself out of his thoughts. Penderel's handshake was firm and his word's friendly as he said, “Welcome to Camelot. Arthur speaks very highly of you, Mr Wilson. Please have a seat... both of you.”

 

Benedict moved to one of the armchairs and Rhys followed Arthur, both sitting on the couch. He couldn't resist a small smile, reminding himself that he'd never been invited to sit in Uther's presence.

 

_~Stop smirking and concentrate!~_ Rhys almost felt a metaphysical whack across his head.

 

_~Sorry! I just find this so surreal.~_

 

_~True... but I did warn you my father isn't a carbon copy of Uther.~_

 

Out loud, Arthur continued talking to his father. “I hear you've been talking to Uncle Tristan. How is he?”

 

“Great! He's excited about his latest exhibition in New York and hoping your mother and I will be attending.” Benedict smiled broadly. “As if I could stop your mother from going! Actually, he would like it if you could be there too. It's not often the family can get together, so I'm sure Ygraine would love a reunion.”

 

“I'm pretty busy with all this stuff, Dad, but if you have Mum get in touch with Gwen about the dates and arrangements, I'll try to fit in Uncle Tristan's opening. He knows how to throw a party!”

 

Father and son shared a laugh, while Rhys whispered in Arthur's mind. _~Tristan, not Aggravaine?~_

 

_~Aggravaine died when he was a teenager... from meningitis. It was a long time ago and no one speaks about it now.~_

 

_~Sorry!~_ And Rhys was sorry. Perhaps this young boy wouldn't have grown up to betray his nephew. Then his eye caught the painting of the dragon. ~ _Tristan DuBois the artist is your uncle?~_

 

_~Actually, he's an interior designer who paints for a hobby... at least, that's what he tells us. And it's actually Tristan Woode, but Uncle thought that was too prosaic for an artiste.~_ Arthur shot a sideways glance at Rhys, his eyes twinkling with mirth. ~ _Believe me, this Tristan is nothing like the one who showed up as The Black Knight. Mind you, he might have painted one once.~_

 

Unaware of the telepathic conversation, Benedict cut in. “Good. No doubt your mother will enjoy taking Gwen out to lunch and weaving her plans for us all. She'll probably insist Gwen comes with us to New York... if you don't mind?”

 

From the gleam in Benedict's eye, Arthur's mother wasn't the only one who was plotting... or should that be matchmaking? Rhys was astounded. The members of this family could not be more different from the people who'd lived so long ago. Yet Arthur seemed pretty much the same.

 

“Of course I don't mind.” Arthur leaned his forearms on his knees, nodding his head in agreement. “She'll like a trip to New York.”

 

From where Rhys sat, he could see the edges of Arthur's ears turning a faint shade of pink and the erstwhile king ordered telepathically. ~ _Don't you dare laugh, Merlin! I may not want you reminding Guinevere of the past, but that doesn't mean I object to my parents inviting Gwen to spend time with us. There is a difference, you know!~_

 

_~I understand.~_ Rhys replied, his expression deadpan. _~I wouldn't mind a trip to The Big Apple myself. I've never been there... well not since it was New Amsterdamn,~_ he added, his voice full of disappointment. 

 

Shocked, Arthur couldn't prevent himself from shooting a puzzling look at his friend. ~ _Your life is so bizarre...~_ But he cleared his throat and said out loud. “Perhaps Rhys would like to accompany us, too.” And as his father looked rather doubtful, he suggested ingeniously, “That would mean we could continue our research on the problem of the Easdale waters.”

 

“That's a good idea, Arthur,” Rhys said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “The US has invested heavily in shale-gas extraction plants. Surely, if fracking is the cause of the phenomenon, then one of these plants might have had similar problems. Mind you, if they have they're definitely keeping quiet about it.”

 

“So a visit might be our best way forward?” Arthur asked, pointing a finger at Rhys.

 

Benedict Penderel leaned back in his chair as he listened to his son and his geologist toss ideas back and forward. There was no denying the two had forged some sort of working partnership, and he couldn't deny that Camelot Industries needed answers. His fingers absent-mindedly stroked his chin. “Then you both believe there is a definitive connection between the two?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Arthur said. “Though the early results do show chemicals in the waters at Easdale.”

 

Benedict sighed audibly. “That's not exactly what I wanted to hear. I'm off to London this afternoon to meet with our bankers. I needn't tell you they're growing extremely nervous about the rumours...”

 

“If it helps, Mr Penderel,” Rhys cut in, edging forward eagerly on the couch. “There are anomalies. The water samples we took do show traces of chemicals which are used in the fracking process, but it seems very strange that they don't show up in similar samples which we've extracted from around the actual drilling sites. They never have.”

 

“Surely that's impossible?” the older man said, his brow wrinkling in perplexity.

 

“Not impossible. There's a slight chance that the leak is so far down that it's not registering in the local area. However, that would suggest that there was some link deep underground between the two places and, I have to say, that scenario seems highly unlikely.”

 

“Have you a way of proving that, Mr Wilson?” Yet at Arthur's dark look, Benedict amended the name... “Rhys?”

 

“Using the latest technology, we can use geophysical and seismic surveys to find out what's underground, but there are limits to our knowledge,” Rhys admitted.

 

“But Rhys does have a contact, who is -- how can I put this? A bit of an enigma. Yet reliable, nevertheless.” Arthur nudged Rhys, warning him to stay quiet. “We're actually on our way to Scotland to talk with... this person, but they would rather remain anonymous. You can pacify your banker friends by telling them we're working on the problem and hope to come up with answers soon.”

 

“An answer which might put Camelot Industries in the clear.” Rhys chose to assure Benedict Penderel, since he found himself actually liking Arthur's father... so far, and he truly did believe someone was trying to frame the Penderels and their energy company.

 

“Only, at the present time, we don't have any proof of that,” Arthur cut in. “So, Dad, remember to keep whatever you tell them fairly vague. I'm sure you'll think of something!” He stood up, brushing down his tailored slacks. “Come on, Rhys. We've a plane to catch and I promised to check in with Gwen before I left. Plus, I'd like to change into something more comfortable, especially since your friend lives in the country.”

 

And as the two young men marched purposefully out, Arthur turned. “Good luck, Dad. See you at the citadel this weekend. I promised Mother I'd come by for dinner. I presume it's OK if I bring Rhys with me?”

 

After a pause, Benedict's voice floated after them, sounding only slightly resigned. “It's fine with me and you know how much your mother loves to meet your new friends.”

 

As Rhys walked after Arthur, he shook his head, unable to suppress his surprise.

 

_~Close your mouth, Rhys. I told you my father was a whole lot nicer this time around.~_

 

_~Yeah. I'm not sure I believed how much, though. He's actually human!~_

 

_~Hey, that's my father you're talking about! Both Uther Pendragon and Benedict Penderel.~_

 

_~Well, whether you like it or not, I much prefer Benedict.~_

 

Arthur grinned again and, judging them to be well out of earshot of any eavesdroppers, he spoke normally. “So do I, Rhys. But don't be fooled; today he was a pussy cat, yet the lion is still in there.”

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who are reading and leaving kudos. I do like to know readers are liking my efforts.


	7. The Existence of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin take a trip to meet one of Merlin's oldest friends and request her help. On the way they do a little reminiscing of their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, I'd like to thank those who've left kudos. Your support is much appreciated.

Chapter Seven

 

 

The Existence of Monsters

 

 

The flight to Inverness had gone smoothly, particularly since Arthur's fears for Gwen's co-existence in the same space with someone who might be Mordred had been totally removed by his mother. By the time Arthur and Rhys had returned to his office, Benedict had already contacted his wife regarding Arthur joining them on their trip to New York with the inclusion of both Gwen and Rhys.

 

With that in mind, and knowing from her husband that Arthur was due to be away from the office for over twenty-four hours, Ygraine had recruited Gwen to help her arrange the details for their future stay in the US, meaning that his PA was unlikely to be spending much time alone in her office with Matthew.

 

The two men had picked up a hired car and, after finding their way through the busy Highland city, were now driving down the road which ran alongside one of the most famous and beautiful lochs in Scotland. The deep waters sparkled and rippled in a long expanse on their left, but as far as they could see, only one motor launch and a larger pleasure boat broke the surface, while on their right, the wooded banking rose steeply towards the mountains.

 

Again the weather seemed to be on their side. The afternoon sun beat down benignly and they were content to be in each other's company, reliving moments of times gone by. There had been so much of...

 

“Do you remember when..?”

 

And... “I can't believe we escaped!”

 

Or... “And that was really you?”

 

Not to mention... “Did I really fly on a dragon... Kilgarrah, I think you called him?”

 

Arthur's stark question brought the reminiscing to an end.

 

“Yeah! You did. I doubt you'll remember though; you weren't awake. I called Kilgarrah after we lost the horses and realized we weren't going to make it to the lake in time.” Rhys cleared the lump which had lodged in his throat. “I wish I'd done it earlier, but Kilgarrah was very old, and he was ill... dying. I didn't want to burden him... thought we could get there ourselves. I'm sorry, Arthur. So you see, in a way I was to blame for you dying.”

 

“No, Merlin. It seems to me Kilgarrah was also your friend... and he did try to help me, even though my father had kept him captive and killed off all of his kind.” Arthur frowned as he spoke and gazed out over the loch. “Neither you nor Kilgarrah were to blame. Mordred struck the fatal blow and he wouldn't have done so if I hadn't alienated him by executing Kara. I recall you tried to warn me about that and I wouldn't listen. I suppose you could say I was complicit in my own death... though Uther certainly carries a lot of the blame, especially where Morgana was concerned.” But Arthur shook himself from his despondency, saying with a bit of a grin. “Pity I was unconscious at the time. I think I'd rather enjoy flying on a dragon's back.”

 

Rhys's mouth spread into an answering smile. “It's a bit special. Once you get used to the strange motion, that is. One thing, it certainly beats flying in a plane. Who knows! You might get a chance to try it this time around.”

 

The blond head snapped round and his eyebrows rose. “Aithusa still flies? But wouldn't she risk being seen... and what about radar?”

 

“Between us, we've managed to create wards which make her nigh on invisible, particularly to high-tech kit. It's why there haven't been any reports of her being spotted in these last few years. At least, I'm hoping that's the case and it's not because something is wrong with her. Dragons can live for over a thousand years... but even she's growing old. She's not immortal like me.”

 

Arthur shook his head. “Immortal! I'm sorry, Merlin, but I've a hard job getting my head around that. The things you must have lived through... seen. It's more than I can comprehend, but I'm assuming it wasn't a walk in the park.”

 

There was a long pause as Rhys brought their car to a standstill behind a row of vehicles, all of which were halted by traffic lights around some fairly substantial road works, but it did give him a chance to think through his answer.

 

“It wasn't all bad,” he said, finally. There was a lot he wasn't prepared to talk about yet. “In fact, exploring the world was a bit of an adventure at first.”

 

“I wouldn't have thought that would be so easy in the dark ages.”

 

“It wasn't, at first, but you forget I had my own form of transport.”

 

Arthur swivelled in his seat, resting his back against the passenger window; he'd been a little annoyed when Rhys had insisted on driving, reminding Arthur he was probably still suffering from concussion. He might have driven his own car in Cardiff, but he knew that route like the back of his hand and it was mostly in a built-up area. Here, the roads were a little more challenging.

 

“Aithusa?” Arthur didn't wait for an answer. “That was brave. From what I can remember about the white dragon, she looked pretty spindly and frail. I wouldn't have thought her strong enough to carry a full grown man... even one as gangly as you.” he smiled to remove the barb from his final words. After all, he now knew Merlin had described himself that way... even if it was in his alter-ego of The Dolma.

 

Rhys returned the smile, not taking offence, as he slipped the car into gear and drove off slowly, following the string of traffic. “Yes, Aithusa! Though the dragon you're going to meet doesn't resemble the one you saw. Once life had settled down in Camelot, I took Aithusa to Lake Avalon and my magic - combined with that of the Sidhe - managed to cure her of her deformities. Not that the Sidhe were all that co-operative, but they're duty bound to help fellow creatures of magic.”

 

“The Sidhe?” Arthur frowned, casting his memory back to that other life. “Did I ever meet them?”

 

“As a matter of fact you did... got very close up and personal with one, too.” Rhys grinned a little wickedly, getting his own back on Arthur for his earlier jibe.

 

“I don't remember meeting a fairy! They are fairies... in the original sense of the word?”

 

“Yes, and you did,” Rhys said with a positive nod of his head. “Mind you, she was in her human form at the time. Not sure you'd have fancied her otherwise.”

 

“Fancied her? Merlin, what are you talking about?” Arthur's eyebrows were drawing together, clearly vexed.

 

“Sophia Tiamor!” Rhys announced with a flourish, adding a little more quietly but pointedly, “Oh, and Arthur, you might want to remember to call me Rhys.”

 

Again, Arthur's brow wrinkled, but this time in concentration. “The girl you told me I'd eloped with? The time you knocked me out and brought me back to Camelot?”

 

“That's the one. But you were enchanted. They'd bewitched you.” Rhys bit his bottom, trying not to smirk as he remembered a besotted Arthur.

 

“Why would they do that?” Arthur sat up straighter, the stunning view of the countryside completely forgotten. “And I suppose that explains why I had no memory of what happened.”

 

“It does, and it's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear?”

 

“Yes... Rhys,” he answered, exaggerating his friend's current name. Though Rhys was right, he really had to stop saying Merlin in case he blurted it out at the wrong time. But Rhys was just so Merlin... and Merlin had been his first ever real friend. Arthur sighed and returned to the subject of the Sidhe. “You can give me the short version.”

 

“Right! How can I put this?” Rhys sighed before continuing. “Sophia and her father where both Sidhe, but for some crime they'd committed they'd been exiled from Avalon where they lived. To get back home, they had to sacrifice a human prince and I guess you just happened to be handy.”

 

“I'm glad I could be of service... but since I didn't die, I take it that's when you caught up with me and knocked me out. What happened to them?”

 

Rhys's nose wrinkled. “That wasn't quite the way it happened. I didn't catch up with you until you were at the lake. Sophia was attempting to drown you...”

 

“And I just let her?” Arthur interrupted, sounding astounded.

 

“Well you were bewitched at the time... remember? Completely under her spell. Even your eyes turned red like theirs.”

 

“Red eyes?” Arthur shuddered.

 

“Bright red! You know how my eyes turn golden? Well like that, but red... like the devil.

 

“Ugh! I'm assuming the Sidhe aren't a very nice race of magic people. Did you kill them?”

 

“They're not! And I did. I turned Aulfric's own staff on him and he just went up in a puff of smoke as it were. Same thing happened to Sophia. Then I dived into the lake to save you and brought you home.”

 

“So you began rescuing me right from the start?” Arthur said in amazement. “I remember the singer... Lady Helen; she was the witch who tried to kill me.”

 

“I doubt it was Lady Helen. It was probably a very early case of stolen identity. But yes, Uther had had her son beheaded, so she wanted an eye for an eye...”

 

“A son for a son,” Arthur repeated the words that were spoken over a century and a half ago. “I'm guessing you saved me a lot back then.”

 

“You were The Prince, which kinda made you a target for anyone who had issues with The Pendragons...”

 

“And Uther made sure there were a lot of those,” Arthur said sadly; his view of his then father's relentless persecution of sorcery was less forgiving when looked on from his modern day perspective.

 

God! Uther had committed genocide... and King Arthur might have followed in his father's footsteps had it not been for the steadying and gentling influence of Guinevere and Merlin in his life.

 

“Then again, Arthur, you were in charge of Camelot's army, so you did do a lot of fighting.” Unaware that Arthur had stopped listening and his thoughts had turned a very dark corner, Rhys prattled on cheerfully. “Though I have to admit that as long as the fight was fair and you weren't totally outnumbered, you won on your own without any help from me. I'm not one for fanning your ego... but you were good!”

 

The unexpected silence caused Rhys to glance over at his passenger. It wasn't like Arthur to ignore a compliment, or to bask in his remembered victories, but he looked like someone who'd just been robbed of his fortune.

 

“What is it? What's wrong?” Rhys asked, quickly taking his hand from the wheel and nudging Arthur when the blond refused to talk.

 

“I suppose it's just hit me what a bloodthirsty tyrant Uther... my father really was.” Arthur refused to look at his friend, staring out over the rippling waters of the loch instead. “And I didn't rescind these laws against sorcerers,” he added bleakly, “which makes me just as bad.”

 

“But you never really carried out any executions either, unless the person used magic to murder someone or commit treason.” Rhys fell silent for a moment too, giving Arthur time to digest what he'd said. “And I don't think you'd have executed me had you lived. Would you?”

 

That got Arthur's attention. “Of course not! I would never have been that ungrateful, nor would I kill my best friend. I'd probably have brought magic back to Camelot, just as you said Guinevere did.” This realisation lifted Arthur out of his gloomy mood. He wasn't like Uther... He never had been! He found himself able to say with equanimity, “At least, it's good to know I managed to win some of my own battles without your help. In fact,” he added, a grin beginning to lighten his expression. “I'm beginning to think that you might be the cause of my jeopardy. I can't remember being in danger often in this life, yet I'd only just met you and I was having to be dragged unconscious out of a pond. Perhaps you're the jinx, Rhys!”

 

“Go to hell, Arthur!” Rhys retaliated, only a little annoyed. “And you probably would, if I wasn't around to save you. Remember the prophecy... 'when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will return.' I didn't even get a mention.”

 

“That's probably because you didn't need to return, you old goat! You've been here forever, which is where this conversation started. I'm not sure I envy you your immortality, Rhys. Though I have to admit, I'd have preferred to have lived longer than thirty years.”

 

Once more, it seemed Arthur might sink into despondency and again Rhys came to his rescue. “Hopefully, this time you will and perhaps my immortality no longer exists.”

 

“What do mean?” Arthur asked, staring at his friend with narrowed eyes.

 

Rhys's head tilted, considering, while he kept his eyes glued to the twisting road. “I think I was granted immortality while I was waiting for you to return, learning about life... perfecting my powers, so I can help you better in conquering whatever evil purpose lies ahead. I think you and I can both die now...”

 

“Thanks, Rhys. That's encouraging to know.” Arthur let out a derisive laugh. “I suppose that means we better keep our wits about us and hope that some more of our friends have been reincarnated. Somehow I get the feeling we're going to need all the help we can get.”

 

“I wouldn't disagree, but don't forget... I do still have magic. I'm probably more powerful than I was a thousand or so years ago,” Rhys stated matter-of-factly, without a trace of

conceit.

 

“Fuck!” Arthur rolled his eyes. “God help us all!”

 

 

*****

 

They parked the car in one of the many viewpoints which were built all the way down the lochside and retrieved their backpacks from the boot, which held water and snacks in case they should get hungry or thirsty during the trek. Slinging their bags on their backs, they crossed the road. Rhys climbed over a drystone dyke which appeared to have recently been repaired, Arthur following him, though reluctantly.

 

“Aren't we heading in the wrong direction?” Arthur shouted, looking over his shoulder at the loch as he began to steadily climb behind Rhys. “Don't people normally hunt for the Loch Ness Monster actually in the loch?”

 

“Most people do, but we're not most people... and Aithusa can hardly come to meet us in a lay-by which happens to be full of tourists. Besides, she's not really a marine mammal, so she only goes for a swim now and then. Usually when she needs to hide. There's a cave half way up the mountain where I ought to be able to contact her. I'm sorry, but we've a couple of hours hiking ahead of us.”

 

Arthur groaned aloud while he stretched the muscles in his back and neck. “You just refused to let me drive because I still had concussion, but you want me to go yomping up a mountain?”

 

“I believe marines do that carrying a full kit and our bags hardly qualify,” Rhys grinned, leaning against a tree. “But, if you're a big girl's petticoat, you can always wait in the car.”

 

That got Arthur moving and he knuckled Rhys's arm as he strode past him following the narrow path. “What are you waiting for?” He disappeared into the shadowed forest as his voice drifted back, filled with laughter. “Now who's the big girl?”

 

The two men climbed the trail, first vying for position but soon settling into a steady pace. The day was unusually hot and both were thankful for the shade of the woods, but as they reached higher on the slope, the trees thinned.

 

“I assumed the dragon would be hiding in the forest,” Arthur said, scanning the bleak, rocky landscape ahead of them. “Surely she can't show herself on the bare hillside.”

 

“Who said she would?” Rhys replied, his eyes crinkling in secret glee. “Remember I have magic.”

 

Arthur halted, his hair ruffling in the faint and welcome breeze which blew at the higher altitude. “Are you telling me your magic can enchant the side of a mountain?”

 

“Not the whole mountain,” Rhys admitted albeit reluctantly. “Just Aithusa. I've cast an invisibility spell over more than one particular being, but I've never tried over such an expanse of land.” There wasn't a trace of conceit in his tone as he studied the hill before him.

 

“Jesus! You're serious. Do you mean you could hide the whole area or just the people or animals on it? You're that powerful?” he asked with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

 

“There are limits to what I can do and it takes a lot of my energy to maintain spells, so I'm not invincible... and what I said earlier about not being immortal any longer is probably true.”

 

“Plus we've no idea who we're up against,” Arthur mused, trouble undermining his usual confidence. “If I remember well, there were a whole string of powerful sorcerers in Albion. Perhaps they've joined forces...”

 

“Arthur, shut up!” Merlin had often wanted to say that to his King the first time around, only he'd had to use more guile. Now he could speak plainly and it felt good. He couldn't help but chuckle at Arthur's gaping jaw, but he didn't wait for a response. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's go meet an old friend.”

 

As Rhys headed on up the track there was little Arthur could do but follow and they marched on in silence, each man conserving his energy for the climb. Clearly, Merlin had learned to stand up for himself in the last fifteen centuries, which wasn't exactly surprising, and if Arthur was honest, he kinda liked this modern day warlock.

 

They crested a ridge that dropped sharply down to a small, wooded glen where a mountain tarn shimmered through the fresh greenery. The slopes, other than their approach, were almost sheer, making the valley into a safe haven... or as secure as was possible in this year of 2020.

 

Recognising his destination from some years earlier, when he had last visited Aithusa, Rhys quickened his step. “Almost there, Arthur. Hurry!” he called eagerly over his shoulder.

 

Arthur shrugged and trailed after his friend, making his way carefully as the descent, even on this side, was steep and covered in places with loose shale. A sudden shiver coursed through his body as he neared the trees... a feeling that he'd passed through an invisible curtain.

 

“Did we just enter one of your enchanted domains?” The golden hairs on Arthur's arms stood slightly erect as he passed his hand back and forward through the magical boundary, his sight barely catching a momentary scintillation in the air, so faint he could almost swear it was only in his mind.

 

“I told you I couldn't create a glamour over the whole mountain, but it's just possible with this wee dell,” Rhys laughed, emphasising a Scottish accent. “A couple of hundred years ago, Aithusa and I came here. I lived in a little bothy by the loch above Urquhart Castle,” Rhys continued, though his whole being had taken on a despairing air. “I'd been a physician with the British Army during The Napoleonic Wars... and before that with the British Navy in the same conflict. When Napoleon was beaten, I was discharged... completely burnt out. I was heart sick of war, of bloody injuries and dying soldiers, so I decided to go in search of Aithusa. She'd had her own problems. Some of the locals in Wales had spotted her and had decided to hunt her down. Of course, I doubt they'd have succeeded in killing her, but she felt she should relocate and we'd discussed Scotland's suitability in the past, so I took a chance on coming north.”

 

“I'm sorry, Rhys. I guess you and Aithusa have had your share of troubles over the years.”

 

“We've had our moments,” Rhys said, sitting on a large boulder. “Yet one thing I've learnt over the centuries is that humankind always finds bigger and better ways of killing each other.”

 

Arthur folded his arms across his chest. “Then Albion never had a golden age?”

 

“For a time, after your death, the Saxons were quiet and Guinevere ruled over a peaceful land but it fell apart soon after her death and the dark ages came to Britain. I suppose since then there's never been a truly peaceful age.” Rhys looked up at Arthur, who was silhouetted against the blue sky, but Rhys didn't need to see his erstwhile king's expression to know it was filled with regret. “But you've studied history, Arthur, you don't need me to tell you that. Britain once had a very rich and powerful Empire, yet it was hardly benign to those over whom it ruled. What I told you was true... King Arthur was special; there never was another like you.”

 

“That's debatable!” Arthur said with a self-derisive laugh. “Hell, they don't even believe I really existed... nor you. We're just a myth now.”

 

“Yet a myth that refuses to die... and one that's known all around the world. Surely that tells you something, Arthur.”

 

The silence in the glade was palpable as Arthur slipped to the ground, leaning his back on Rhys's temporary seat, his blue-eyed stare matching the colour of the heavens as he contemplated Rhys's point. Yet he stayed silent, prompting the warlock to continue.

 

“It tells me that no matter how bad things get, no matter how greedy and power hungry the men who really rule this world become, the ordinary people cling to the hope that somewhere, someone will champion their cause. Someone who believes in honour, justice and equality, who'll judge them on their abilities and not their social standing. They need to believe in a champion like King Arthur... no matter how fantastical that may seem. They need a hero, Arthur... someone who can give them back their hope.”

 

“I'm not a king anymore and I'm not sure I'm the right material to be a hero,” Arthur answered, though there was less scepticism in his voice.

 

Rhys jumped up. “But you are! You might try to deny it, but you haven't changed. You still believe in all the things that made your kingdom a legend.”

 

Arthur twisted to look up at his old friend. “You really believe in me that much? That I could make a difference?”

 

“I do... and it's not just me. It was always your destiny to return. The world needs you now.” Rhys's voice was reassuring. “Arthur, even before you became King, you were always willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of your people. I believe you're still ready to step up to the plate.”

 

“You think I'm expected to die all over again?” Arthur asked pouting, though his tone was lighter. He picked up a twig and absent-mindedly twisted it between his fingers. “My family does have some influence... and you're right, I still hold true to those ideals Camelot and The Knights of The Round Table embodied.” He dropped the twig and stood up, wiping the grass from his jeans. “It's funny, but I actually think my father has picked up some of these traits from my mother too... if only by osmosis.”

 

Arthur stepped up onto the rock Rhys had vacated, gazing off into the far distance where the sharp mountain peaks glimmered purple-blue in the early summer haze. He balanced, completely still, for a long moment, but when he turned his bearing was transformed. Rhys could almost imagine the golden crown upon the one-time playboy's head. If only Arthur had Excalibur.

 

“Then it's settled. As long as you're with me, Merlin, I'm prepared to face any enemy... any evil that is brewing in this land and fight with everything I have to defeat it.” Jumping down from his makeshift dais, he moved closer to Rhys. “Will you stand with me, as you've always done?”

 

“I think you need not ask. I was born to serve you, Arthur, in all your incarnations.”

 

“I don't want a servant... just be my backup and my friend.” They grinned into each other's faces, before exchanging a bear hug, until Arthur pulled back to say. “But we need reinforcements. We need to find the Knights of The Round Table.”

 

Yet before he could say more, a silky voice came from the forest behind them. “I'm not a knight... but will I do? I believe my assistance could prove invaluable.”

 

Both men sprang apart and Rhys called out. “Aithusa! You're still alive. Still here.” The lanky man paced into the trees where he found the source of the voice.

 

“Indeed I am and quite healthy, as you can see.” Aithusa preened before her dragonlord. “Your enchantment has worked a treat, Merlin. I can come and go almost as I please, as long as I'm careful when I leave my domain and I follow the caves and tunnels down to Loch Ness and beyond. Your invisibility spell holds good with anyone who doesn't believe in dragons.”

 

Not waiting for the dragon to stop talking, Rhys flung his arms around Aithusa's neck as she bent towards him, uttering something like a purr when he stroked beneath her chin. Behind them Arthur Penderel watched bemused. Who would have thought that dragons still existed? And, at least this one was as tame as a pussy cat, though he got the impression that Aithusa could prove quite an adversary if riled.

 

He remembered fighting Kilgarrah when he'd escaped his prison. The great dragon had maimed and terrorised Camelot until Merlin had driven him away. Mind you, he'd hadn't known that at the time. He'd believed he'd killed the beast. That was a joke, believing his puny weapons could penetrate such a scaly, tough hide. On the other hand, modern weapons would no doubt be quite effective. He was surprised to find that idea upset him. Aithusa had lived for almost as long as Merlin, hurting no one and she should be allowed to live out the span of her life. He shook himself from his thoughts.

 

“Is that how it works?” Arthur came forward, smiling in awe at the white dragon who looked a whole lot healthier than the last time he had seen her at Camlann. “You can travel around unseen? Yet I can see you plain as the nose on my face.”

 

“That's because you know I exist. Merlin's spell only works on non-believers, and as that happens to be almost all the population of the world, there isn't often a problem.” Aithusa spoke with a touch of pride for her master, though there was a tiny touch of exasperation in her melodic voice. “Now and again, I do encounter a believer, which is why you read of a Loch Ness Monster sighting in your newspapers. Mind you, those grow less and less by the decade. I suspect the common man is becoming a great deal more sceptical about the supernatural than he once was.”

 

“Which is a good thing,” Rhys suggested, unable to remove the happy grin from his face at his reunion with the one friend who had lived as long as he. “At least it means we won't have any uncalled for witch-hunt and you can live out your life in peace.”

 

Arthur screwed up his eyes as he, once again, looked around the vast hillside. On the lower slopes they'd passed sheep, grazing on the open pasture. “I suppose there's deer for you to hunt up here, so you don't go hungry. It wouldn't do for you to go eating sheep that some farmer would notice. Unless Merlin's managed to make your prey invisible too.”

 

“Now that would be impossible,” Rhys countered. “Besides, farmers can count. Even if they didn't find the remains, they'd soon realise they were losing stock.”

 

“I used to eat deer,” Aithusa said rather mournfully, “But lately I find my teeth aren't quite up to the task of chewing through their hide to get to the meat. Now I prefer the odd rabbit, or grouse, or pheasant. They're very good and I can still grind down their bones. Salmon are a delicacy which I do enjoy, plus swimming is a very good exercise for my old muscles.”

 

Watching Arthur's face as they discussed Aithusa's diet was quite a picture and Rhys couldn't help smiling. Yet they hadn't only come here to pass the time of day... which was a pity. He really had to make more time in his life for Aithusa and this was something he would remedy... just as soon as they'd nullified the danger which faced Albion.

 

“Aithusa, I'm sorry but this isn't a purely social call,” Rhys said apologetically, gaining her attention. “We've come to talk to you about a particular problem...”

 

“You mean the dancing water?” the dragon interrupted, a low growl coming from the back of her throat.

 

“You know about it?” Arthur couldn't contain himself, though he'd first thought to leave the conversation to Rhys.

 

“I do, Arthur Pendragon... though I also know you're no longer he.” Aithusa sat, her tail curling around her like a dog while she surveyed the stranger before her. “You do look almost the same, apart from the clothes, of course.”

 

“I suppose in one way I am him, biologically speaking. I wonder if my DNA is the same?” Arthur mulled the idea over, though clearly his question was hypothetical as he continued, without waiting for an answer. “However, I've been brought up in a totally different environment, so I'm not him. I'm Arthur Penderel this time.”

 

“Yes. I brought that to Merlin's notice some years ago,” Aithusa informed him, changing back to the subject in hand, completely oblivious to the consternation he'd caused the Penderel man. “And I know about the water in Easdale because I am not a total hermit.”

 

“We've come to ask if you have any ideas on what's causing the sensation. We had the water tested and discovered they were polluted by chemicals which happen to be used in fracking for shale gas,” Rhys explained, sitting down on the convenient trunk of a fallen tree.

 

Arthur decided to helpfully add a little more information to Rhys's explanation. “Fracking is a method used to extract shale gas...”

 

Aithusa stared disdainfully at Arthur. “There is no need to explain, Master Penderel,” she announced witheringly, though her voice remained somewhat sing-song. “I'm not an idiot either. Neither do I think fracking has anything to do with what's occurring in these islands.”

 

Seeing his friend looking a little crestfallen, Rhys said quickly, “We thought there might be some underground route which the water might seep through to the western islands.”

 

“There are, Merlin. As you know, I use them to travel to the Atlantic, but they are not the source of your contamination.”

 

“There are tunnels all the way from here to the coast?” Arthur asked, perking up again at that piece of information. “That's amazing!”

 

“Not quite all the way to the coast, but I can move underground from here to Loch Morar, which isn't far from the Atlantic.” Being the centre of Arthur's attention again, Aithusa relented. “You might have heard of Morag?”

 

“Of course. So there aren't two monsters... just one dragon. Amazing!” Clearly Arthur was so spellbound he could think of only one word to associate with this mythical animal.

 

“Indeed.” Aithusa gazed down her nose at her dragonlord's companion. She couldn't help but wonder what was so special about this man... yet, Merlin believed in him and the people of Camelot had adored him. He became a legend. Perhaps she should give him a second chance. After all, it wasn't everyday one met a dragon. The poor boy was probably suffering from shock. She'd best get him back on track. “But shouldn't we be discussing the source of those chemicals?”

 

Aithusa's question snapped Arthur back into executive mode. “It's why we came, and we'd be grateful, Aithusa, for any help you can give us.” Arthur, too, found a spot to sit down -- a rounded rock which was covered in spongy moss. “We mostly ruled out the natural seepage angle, so it's good you agree. There's a possibility the chemicals were dumped on purpose to discredit our company, but so far we've no proof of that... which left us with the magic card.”

 

Aithusa's large head nodded up and down, much to Arthur's amusement; so many of the dragon's gestures were very human. “Perhaps magic is being used to discredit your company.”

 

“That's pretty much what we concluded,” Rhys said, mirroring Aithusa's head action before drawing his knees up onto the tree trunk and balancing somewhat precariously. “Trouble is we have no idea who's behind the sorcery, nor how they're managing to agitate the waters. I was there, and though I sensed something, it wasn't the presence of another sorcerer.”

 

“It must be a powerful enchantment to control such actions over a period of time and at a distance.” Aithusa's tale twitched spasmodically as her nostrils flared. She looked dangerous and Arthur couldn't help but wonder if dragons were more akin to cats than dogs when it came to the reasons for tail wagging. Finally, he decided that dragons were very much a unique species... a strange blend of mythical creature and human. “If you want my advice, Arthur Penderel, I'd suggest you take a look at what's underneath the surface. I think you might find some answers.”

 

“That's also in our plans.” Arthur offered Aithusa a small smile, beginning to feel more comfortable in her presence. Strangely, he wasn't sure the reverse applied. In Aithusa's eyes, he felt very much as if he was on probation. “I've done a bit of scuba diving myself, but I've sent for a friend. He was a navy diver, but now operates his own business in Grand Cayman... doing really well for himself too, but I'm sure he'd be willing to spare some time to help a mate.”

 

“Mate?” Aithusa looked askance at the ex-king. “I had thought Guinevere was your mate. It is written...”

 

Not wanting another lecture from the dragon, Arthur hurriedly explained. “Mate. As in friend. It's just an expression these days. Drew's a friend. A good friend.”

 

“Then I think that should be your next step,” Aithusa relented a little and grinned toothily at her dragonlord's friend, but quickly turned her attention back to Merlin. “I'm sorry I can't be more help at present, but those ponds are too small and too shallow for such as me. However, I will patrol the skies above Albion to see if I can root out any bad sorcery.”

 

“Thank you, Aithusa. Any help you can give us is appreciated,” Rhys left his perch, bowing towards the dragon who returned the salutation. “But be very careful. Our wards might cloak you in invisibility, yet they might not be strong enough against a powerful magician. ”

 

“I will take ultimate care, Merlin.” Aithusa too rose, realising the meeting was over and sad to see her visitors go. It had been so long since she had interacted with humankind and she felt inspired to be useful again. “You must not hesitate to ask for my aid no matter the danger. I will call you if I find anything substantial, but, for now, farewell. And you must heed my warning; I fear both of you will face many hazards in the days to come. An evil force has been reborn into this world. One which must be defeated if Albion is to survive.”

 

“Can we conquer it?” Arthur asked, coming to stand beneath Aithusa's great snout. “I know Merlin is the most powerful socerer ever... but he's a good person. Maybe too good. He doesn't kill lightly... and though I don't have his scruples, I don't have magic. If I learned one lesson in my last life it was that magic must be fought with magic.”

 

Aithusa appeared to give Arthur's question deep consideration before answering, while outside the enchanted vale, birdsong, whispering winds and the occasional bleat of a sheep proved that the world went on, regardless of the seriousness of this rendezvous. At last, Aithusa spoke.

 

“Whoever is your adversary, I believe he is indeed a master sorcerer. The fight for Albion could prove bloody. Yet you are two sides of the same coin and together you can prevail.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for another couple of weeks. Hope you enjoyed it.


	8. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two favourite men have a heart to heart with each other and Arthur learns a lot of the trials and tribulations which Merlin has been through since he'd been away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry to be a day late again. My husband had a pretty bad fall a couple of days ago and is even more disalbed at the moment, so I've been very busy.

Chapter Eight

 

History

 

The trip back down the mountain took less time and was carried out mostly in silence, both men preoccupied with their own thoughts on what had been revealed at the meeting with the dragon. When they reached the car, at last, gloaming was settling over the Great Glen and Loch Ness with a gentle shimmer of golden red upon the water.

 

They threw their now lighter backpacks onto the back seat of the car and, still without talking, they drove off, Rhys reversing in the parking space and heading back towards Inverness and the airport.

 

They had driven through the Highland city -- busy with tourists enjoying the night-life -- and out the other side, when Arthur finally spoke. “Right, I have two questions?”

 

“Only two?” Rhys inquired, his eyebrows arched in surprise as he searched for the sign which would direct them to the airport.

 

“Well, only two I can think of for now, though I'm sure there'll be others in the future,” Arthur replied with a smirk, but his expression quickly became serious again. “The first one's fairly easy, and I think I already know the answer, but I just want to make sure. What does Aithusa mean when she talks about Albion?”

 

Rhys didn't think the question was simple. “Great Britain. In particular the main island... England, Wales and Scotland. Those were the original boundaries of Albion from Roman times.”

 

“That was my take,” Arthur mused, pulling up the bottom of his jeans and scratching subconsciously at his leg. “So, as King Arthur, I didn't even come close to uniting Albion. Good God, we didn't even have a treaty with Cornwall!” He appeared morose at this thought for a fraction of a second, but his mood was interrupted suddenly. “What the hell is that?” he asked, his voice almost reaching regions where it could crack glass.

 

Rhys jumped. “What? Where?”

 

Arthur pulled one leg across his adjacent knee and pointed to a spot on his calf which seemed to be swollen. “That? That thing? Does it have legs?”

 

A snort of laughter burst from Rhys's mouth. “That's a tick. You probably picked it up during our hike.” But when Arthur looked blank, Rhys continued. “It's a bug which burrows its head into your skin and sucks your blood. Didn't we have ticks back in Camelot? I know we had lice and fleas... The times I spent searching through your bed linen or your clothes, especially your gambeson when we came back from patrol. Don't pretend you were too grand to know about these things. And don't go trying to pull that out either!” Rhys shouted a warning, causing Arthur to freeze.

 

“Why? What's it going to do to me?”

 

“Nothing. Unless it's infected, but you have to make sure you get the head out and pulling at the thing usually just separates the body form the rest of it. I've a little device in my bag which will do the trick.”

 

“Can't you just use magic?”

 

“I suppose...” There was a flare of gold from Rhys's eyes and the parasite disappeared with a smattering of Arthur's blood.

 

“Merlin! Watch it,” Arthur growled, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping at the blood.

 

“You did ask,” Rhys protested, changing the subject. “Talking of which... what's your second question? I assume it has nothing to do with ticks.”

 

Satisfied his leg was now free of minuscule vampires, Arthur rolled down his trouser leg. “Of course not. I was going to ask how long you've known I was alive again. I believed you'd discovered my existence fairly recently, but something Aithusa said made me think differently.”

 

Rhys considered his answer very carefully, aware that Arthur felt somehow betrayed that Merlin hadn't rushed to his side immediately. “Can't this wait till we get on the plane? I'm driving here.”

 

“You made a dragon and her lair invisible, but you're telling me you can't drive a car and hold a conversation at the same time?” Arthur countered sarcastically, his frown stubborn.

 

“Not the one that you seem to think is highly important.”

 

This time Arthur paused before continuing. “I don't suppose it changes anything... not really... Yet knowing you knew I was reborn but didn't see fit to get in touch with me... it hurts... kinda.”

 

“I didn't know about you when you were born,” Rhys announced. It was his turn to feel slightly aggrieved. “To be honest, I didn't even realise Benedict Penderel was Uther.”

 

“The name Ygraine Penderel didn't ring any bells?”

 

Rhys gave all his attention to turning the car into the entrance of the airport and finding the hire car agency's parking lot. He manoeuvred the vehicle in and switched off the ignition, shifting nervously in his seat to face Arthur. “As hard as you may find it to understand, I didn't follow socialite news, nor read trendy magazines about the rich and famous. Actually, sometime in the nineteen-nineties, I became a bit of a recluse... again. I do that when life doesn't seem to be worth living.”

 

A knot formed in his stomach and, grabbing their bags, he almost jumped out of the car. He strode towards the terminal but, as Arthur caught up with him, he swerved and made his way toward the far end of the building where the lights were less bright. He stopped abruptly, leaning his back against the terminal wall and regarded Arthur with an irritated stare.

 

“I've gone through many conflicts in my long life. I told you about the Napoleonic wars, yet the twentieth century managed to outdo most of what had gone before.” Rhys tilted his head backwards, his gaze contemplating the heavens where myriad stars glowed, points of white light against the soft purple backdrop of the night sky. How could something so beautiful exist alongside the horrors he'd witnessed? “You'd think we'd learn to be better, more tolerant as we became more civilised, but that didn't really happen.”

 

Rhys went quiet and still, scarcely breathing, but Arthur was perceptive enough not to interrupt. His friend had evidently been bottling all this pain and despondency inside because he hadn't had anyone to talk to for God knew how long. Well, Arthur was back and, though he was feeling a little let down himself, he was wise enough to know that his hurt didn't compare to Merlin's torment. He moved to the warlock's side and rested next to him... waiting sympathetically.

 

“You know, The First World War was supposed to be the war which ended all wars... or so it was said,” Rhys stated, his voice devoid of inflection. “Yet just over twenty years later, the world was plunged into another one; a war where men's dogmatism and cruelty were given free rein on a massive scale. But even when that was over and so many civilians had been killed, did we stop?” He twisted, slightly, towards Arthur and in the shifting shadows, Arthur could see raw pain reflected sharply in Rhys's eyes. “No! Next we had the Korean War, then the Vietnamese one, which went on forever. Oh, and in between we had a couple of Arab/Israeli conflicts. After that we had The Falklands War... I suppose its saving grace was that it lasted only seventy-four days... But it's amazing how much carnage can be committed in such a short time.”

 

Here Rhys's monologue dried up and his chin dropped to his chest. After a moment, Arthur prompted gently, “Were you there, Rhys?”

 

“Yes. But I wasn't Rhys Wilson then.” Merlin shook his head. “I served as a medic on one of the hospital ships. We treated the men who were injured on the Ardent and the Sheffield. It wasn't pretty... men caught below decks while a fire rages all around them.” A wrenching sigh tore from Merlin's throat. “Afterwards, I sort of drifted. Stayed away for a few years, a nobody just wandering around Europe. But even those Falklands pictures faded into insignificance when I saw what happened in Bosnia. I didn't mean to go... but the charities were asking for medically trained staff to go into Sarajevo...”

 

“And you couldn't turn aside. Oh, Merlin.” Arthur wrapped his arm sideways around his friend's slim shoulders, feeling very much like he also wanted to cry, yet holding back because he wasn't the one who'd witnessed so many horrifying events. “You never could turn your back on people who needed your help.”

 

“Help! There was little we could do. Almost nothing. It was genocide, Arthur.” Merlin slumped against Arthur's stockier frame. “Don't ask me to relive it. I can't go back there... even in memory.”

 

“No. I never would,” Arthur reassured Merlin, but he wished he could pour him a stiff drink. God, he needed one himself. If all this had happened to Merlin in one century, it was appalling to contemplate all the others. Yet Arthur sensed that Merlin needed an outlet... a safety valve to release the pain. “Can you tell me what happened next?” he asked, his voice soft and calm, yet taking charge.

 

“I stopped being Ewan... Ewan... someone or other. Christ, I've even forgotten who I was then.” He shook his head sadly. “I've had so many different identities through the centuries,” he said by way of explanation. “At first, it was easy, but it got harder when they started recording people's lives... their births, their deaths. You have no idea how tricky it is now... with all the high tech stuff. I suppose it's lucky I have magic.” Merlin's brow wrinkled in concentration. “Maddox! Ewan Maddox. He was a medic in the Falklands and a charity worker in Sarajevo. Then he just disappeared. Merlin came home and hid away in the cottage in Glastonbury. I really do have a home there, you know. I've had it for centuries,” Merlin mumbled disjointedly. “I let myself age. You'd have laughed if you'd seen me... I looked like a tramp.”

 

“I'm guessing a modern day Dragoon?” Arthur suggested with the mildest of grins. “You mentioned that cottage before. Is it your bolt hole?”

 

“Pretty much. I go there when the world gets too much for me to handle... and that's happened a number of times through the ages.”

 

“Is that why you didn't know I'd returned?” Arthur finally asked the burning question.

 

“Arthur, I was hardly aware of anything,” Merlin answered, his glance begging for Arthur's understanding. “I suppose doctors would say I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. I lost all sense of purpose... even lost hope that you'd ever return. I wanted to die... but I knew that wasn't possible, so I did the next best thing; I crawled into my shell and tried my damnedest to ignore what was happening in the outside world.”

 

“I'm sorry, Merlin. I wish I could have come back sooner...”

 

“That wasn't under your control,” Merlin interrupted. “You had to wait till destiny called you back. Besides, I did have a friend.”

 

Arthur smiled more brightly. “Aithusa.”

 

“Yes. She sensed my despair and paid me a visit,” Merlin said, feeling able to stand on his own and pushing away from the wall and Arthur's friendly support. “It didn't take her long to realise I'd missed your rebirth. We talked for days about why you were brought back at this specific time? In the end, we decided it didn't matter. We just knew I had to get ready to help you whatever the reason.”

 

“I'm guessing you had to invent a new identity for yourself.”

 

“Exactly. I needed to create a new person again, one whose credentials would withstand the closest scrutiny.”

 

“And you use magic to do that?”

 

“Pretty much. I created a birth certificate... even a record of my birth at Glastonbury registrar.”

 

Arthur's lips pursed in awe. “That's clever. I'm guessing once you're registered all the rest follows.”

 

“It's a little more complicated... and not all of it is welcome. Like the social services showing up at my grandfather's house -- that's mine -- to find out how little Rhys was getting on at school. Do you know how difficult it is to hold two opposite ageing spells for a period of months? I didn't know where I was coming from. Thank goodness they were finally satisfied.” Arthur couldn't quite suppress a grin at the conundrum his warlock had created for himself, but Merlin continued talking. “Then there's getting a National Insurance number, but again a spell or two comes in handy. Don't worry, Arthur. You're not about to be charged with employing an illegal immigrant,” Merlin soothed, giving his boss's arm a friendly punch. “I promise, Rhys Wilson is a legal citizen of the United Kingdom.”

 

Arthur frowned at Rhys while rubbing his arm, yet he didn't complain, remembering the many times he'd done a similar thing to Merlin in Camelot. “I never doubted you. But am I right in saying you became Rhys Wilson a number of years ago?” And as Merlin nodded his confirmation, Arthur went on. “I do wonder how you knew what sort of identity Rhys Wilson should have.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes and breathed deeply. Clearly Arthur Penderel was more street-wise and persistent than Arthur Pendragon. “I'm assuming you want to know everything?” Rhys heaved another sigh.

 

“I do. But hold that thought for now. It's getting late and I'd rather listen to your explanation in the comfort of our plane... and, I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”

 

With those final words, Arthur led the way through the terminal to the private jet waiting on the runway, hoping that the air crew had seen fit to stock the fridge. Marching up and down a mountain had certainly sharpened his appetite.

 

 

*****

 

The two men had found enough food on the plane to satisfy their hunger and, as the jet flew through the now darkened sky on its return journey to Cardiff, they relaxed in the easy chairs provided. Rhys was a simple man, but even he had to admit that this was the way to travel, if you could afford it, and there was no doubt that the Penderels could. The logo on the outside skin of the aeroplane and printed on the chair backs looked like a stylised version of his old friend, The Great Dragon. Kilgarrah would have been proud.

 

And thinking of dragons... as Merlin stared out the window he wondered if Aithusa was out there, searching the countryside for another source of dark magic. She would do what she could to help him and Merlin could only hope that her cloak of invisibility would hold up.

 

“Are you thinking about Aithusa?” Arthur's voice came from the seat on the other side of the aisle. The fair-haired man was cradling a glass of white wine, while he stretched out in the recliner chair. “Do you think she'll be safe?”

 

Merlin swivelled his seat towards Arthur. “I believe so. Aithusa and I strengthened the enchantment during our visit.”

 

Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I didn't hear you incant any spells.”

 

“Arthur, we used telepathy. Besides, if your magic is strong enough, you don't always have to speak. Aithusa and I have been practising that one for centuries,” Merlin explained, seeing that Arthur was genuinely interested in his gift. “Can you imagine the fear it would have created in the middle-ages if people had spotted a dragon flying overhead.”

 

“It caused enough horror in Camelot, as I remember, and with good cause.”

 

“Kilgarrah was angry; the rest of his kind had been wiped out and he'd been imprisoned for years... so yes, he took his revenge. I ordered him to stop... and afterwards, he only tried to help us in the creation of Albion. Believe me, he warned me so many times about Mordred, and if I'd only listened, perhaps you wouldn't have died when you did.”

 

“You weren't to blame, Merlin. I wouldn't have listened either. We should stop trying to hash over our past lives and concentrate on the problems we have now.” Arthur took a sip from his glass and savoured the taste for a second or two. “Mind you, I still want to know how you managed to foresee which profession Rhys Wilson should choose, or are your degrees in geophysics magically created too?”

 

Merlin grinned widely, his white teeth gleaming. “Not at all. I did go to university and I deserved every single one of my degrees. Though I suppose studying magic for fifteen hundred years gave me a bit of an edge. You'd be surprised how organic magic really is. And I'm also not an idiot.”

 

Arthur laughed heartily. “I know. That was only stupid banter. I never thought you were an idiot, or a coward. In fact, you were probably the bravest and definitely the most loyal man I knew.” And just in case Merlin should get a little big-headed Arthur added quickly, “A bit clumsy perhaps...” He narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “Though that might have been part of the act.”

 

“No. No act. I'm still a klutz. It's part of my charm.”

 

“That's debatable.” But Arthur was still grinning, happy to be back sharing a relaxing moment with his erstwhile servant. However, he quickly got back to the case in hand. “OK, I'm willing to accept you went to university and breezed through your masters, but how did you know what to study? Was it only to get close to me?”

 

“Not only. Though it seemed a good idea since Camelot Industries is heavily into developing new sources of energy.” Merlin lifted the bottle of beer from the table in front of him and took a long swill. “And Aithusa and I were becoming increasingly aware that the balance of the world's magic was changing. Working in Camelot Industries as a geophysicist seemed to be the answer to both problems.”

 

Arthur straightened his chair and sat forward. “Then you think the world's climate change is due to magic?”

 

The warlock grimaced, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple. Someone with magic is exploiting the situation... dangerously so, but giant energy companies have to accept some of the blame. Not, Camelot Industries in particular, but as a whole.” He cupped the bottle in his hands, trying to compose what he wanted to say. “Since the Industrial Revolution, business has been bleeding mother nature dry... and all to make a profit. I know they didn't understand what they were doing in the beginning, but the scientific community has been issuing warnings for decades about the danger to the ozone layer and how that changes the climate world wide, but very few companies listened... not even their governments.”

 

“We're listening now, Merlin,” Arthur countered, but with a certain amount of fatalism. “Is it too late?”

 

The slim, boyish looking man leaned back in his chair and, for a second, his eyes showed every one of his many years. “You want the truth, or the comfortable answer?”

 

Very carefully, Arthur placed his glass on the table next to his mobile and tablet. “The truth. I don't ever want platitudes from you.”

 

Merlin twisted his head on the chairback to look at Arthur, who reminded him of the once and future king more than ever. “I'm not sure. I don't think anyone is... not really. We've done a lot of damage and we'll suffer the consequences for that. Maybe if we stopped doing what we're doing, the earth could recover, but that's just supposition and it would take a long, long time.”

 

Arthur heaved a sigh and reclined his chair again, closing his eyes. “There isn't much I can do about the rest, but I can influence Camelot Industries... and I will, but I've got to get my father onside first.”

 

“Is that possible?”

 

“Depends on whether I can persuade my mother,” Arthur said, smiling.

 

Rhys noticed that every time Arthur mentioned his mother, a smile lit his eyes. He decided he was looking forward to meeting Ygraine Penderel at the weekend. Meanwhile, he felt very tired and a little dispirited. He yawned loudly.

 

“Why don't you get some sleep, Rhys,” Arthur suggested, deciding to address his friend by his present name, since it seemed their magical adventure was almost over. “After all, an old man like you shouldn't be trekking over mountains.” He smothered a laugh.

 

A cushion from the couch nearer the front of the plane launched itself at Arthur, whacking him over the face.

 

“Hey, I'm the one who gets to throws things. I might not be able to put you in the stocks these days, but I could still fire you,” Arthur warned in mock anger, playing pass the parcel with the offending cushion.

 

“But you won't,” Rhys said sleepily, catching the said cushion and placing it behind his head. He was almost dozing off when Arthur's mobile started buzzing. “Who'sss...at?” His words ran into each other.

 

“That's our diver. Drew Spears,” Arthur said, his fingers flying over the screen of his iphone. “He's arriving in the UK tomorrow.”

 

“You already asked him?” Rhys turned in the chair which was now almost a bed, snuggling under a handy blanket which he'd found on a shelf. He sighed contentedly. You certainly couldn't make yourself comfortable like this in economy.

 

“I can speak to my friends, too, without you knowing,” Arthur said somewhat loftily, before relenting. “By text... not telepathy. I told him I needed his help ASAP and he's on his way.”

 

“Must be a good friend.” Rhys was almost asleep, so he didn't notice Arthur sitting erect at first.

 

A picture had materialised in Arthur's mind, an image of a man with thick brown hair and dark eyes... and a smile which bordered on apologetic.

 

“Oh my God! He's Lancelot! Drew Spears is bloody Lancelot!” He turned his startled gaze on Rhys, his blue eyes wide with a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. “How come I didn't realise that till now? And I've just invited my biggest rival back into my life. I am never going to stand a chance with Gwen now.”

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the offering for this week. Hope you enjoy and I'll post again in two weeks. I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter.


	9. Friends Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another reincarnated friend joins the group. Has he come to help or to hinder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a day late and it might actually still be Thursday in some place in the world.
> 
> Please read and enjoy... and let me know your verdict.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

Friends Reunited

 

 

The next evening found Arthur waiting, not so patiently, for another arrival only this time at Cardiff Central train station. Tagging along with him was Rhys, a situation which was beginning to seem as normal in this day and age as it had in his past life. Not that Arthur had actually requested Rhys's presence, but the warlock was adamant that there was more chance that Drew Spears would recall his Camelot days if he saw the two men together.

 

The fact that Arthur was practically pacing was due to a certain nervousness about meeting Drew now that he knew the facts. Plus the train was late. He turned restlessly on Rhys. “Didn't you check to see if the train was on time?”

 

“No. I thought you did, or asked Gwen to,” Rhys answered, unable to stop himself from sniping just a little. “He's your friend after all.” Since Arthur had awoken around lunch time, he'd acted increasingly like a bear with a sore head. “How come you know Drew, anyway? From what I found out online, he's not exactly someone who'd mix much in your circles.”

 

Arthur squinted at Rhys. “Why? Why should you find it strange that I'd make friends with a guy from a working class background? I made friends with you. Didn't I?”

 

“I suppose. But I just wondered how your paths crossed, seeing as you went to a public school.”

 

“Been doing your homework, Rhys?” Arthur enquired, his chin lifting regally. “I might have gone to Charterhouse, but I went to a local primary school in Cardiff, as did Anna. My mother didn't like the idea of sending us to boarding school when we were too young.”

 

Rhys grunted. “What did Uther have to say about that? I'm sure he wasn't overjoyed.”

 

“Probably not, but then my mum can usually get her own way with Dad... and she did promise him he could choose our secondary education, which is why I went to Charterhouse. It was his alma mater.” Arthur finally gave up striding back and forth and came to sit by Rhys. “I met Drew at school when we were eight years old. We found ourselves in agreement over a bully who was terrorising the younger kids and we persuaded him to stop. After that, it just seemed natural for us to stick together. Mum made all my friends welcome regardless of where they were from, and she encouraged Drew to come around even after I left for boarding school. Over the years, we haven't seen so much of each other, but we've kept in touch.” Arthur leaned his arms on his knees and contemplated the ground. “I still can't believe I didn't realise he was Lancelot reincarnated, though.”

 

“Why would you? You've only known about yourself since we met and you fell in that pool.” Rhys stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at his friend. “You might not have remembered so quickly if you hadn't hit your head. Don't expect too much from Drew.”

 

“Right. So perhaps I should just punch Drew in the face instead of saying hello,” Arthur said with a slight smirk, though Rhys couldn't be completely sure if he was joking.

 

“That wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

 

“Don't worry. I won't. Though it might mess up his pretty face, which might help when it comes to Gwen, but I'm afraid he'd probably wipe the floor with me.”

 

Rhys seriously doubted that. Arthur might have joked about his fitness while visiting Aithusa, but Rhys had found out that, apart from being a keen soccer and polo player, Arthur was also trained in Martial Arts. He'd begun at school and still regularly visited a club in the city run by two ex-royal marines. It was a pity he hadn't taken up fencing lessons too.

 

However Arthur decided to greet Drew remained a mystery, as the London train finally pulled into the station. Arthur marched over to the exit gate, while Rhys hurried behind, an unexpected surge of eagerness lightening his step.

 

Would Drew, the reborn Lancelot, remember him? Apart from Gaius, he was the one person who'd known of Merlin's magic from his early years in Camelot. A friend who'd accepted him for who he was... magic and all. Perhaps, more of a friend than Arthur himself... but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that not to be true.

 

Apart from biology, Arthur was his brother, in every way. No, more than a brother. A twin. In mind and in soul. The other side of the coin... the other half of himself.

 

For hundreds of years he'd waited for Arthur to return, as Kilgarrah had promised. How many times had he imagined that day? Would he sense his presence? Would Arthur recognise him? Would he in some way foresee that momentous occasion?

 

But when that fateful day had finally arrived, none of these things had happened. There was simply Arthur striding toward him, looking bedraggled and out of place, yet so like the Arthur of old.

 

The rest of the world had faded away, leaving only himself and Arthur. In that fleeting moment, Merlin's heart had stopped, then it resumed with such a pounding beat it seemed it might burst from his chest. Heat flushed through him and it was a minor miracle he'd managed to act normally. With his spirit filled with joy and an incredible sense of relief, Merlin had known his long wait was over. The two sides of the coin were united once more.

 

But, for all that, Merlin had cared for Lancelot. He'd reconnected the knight's soul to his body when Morgana had so cruelly rent them asunder. Merlin's was probably the last face Lancelot ever saw, so would he recognise him as Rhys? His hair was a little longer, but just as dark. He still had his over large ears that seemed incongruous with his thin face and high cheekbones and his honest blue eyes hadn't faded with age. His body was perhaps slightly better built... and if he continued to train with Arthur, he might actually develop some abs.

 

Rhys felt an involuntary grin curl his mouth as he spotted the familiar figure sauntering down the platform to meet them. Drew's walk was casual, but there was a hint of strength and confidence in his movement. This was Lancelot from The Round Table days and not the young dreamer who'd come to Camelot seeking to be a knight, who'd killed the griffin with Merlin's magical help and thus discovered his secret. In the present, Drew's hair might be styled differently and his skinned tanned but Rhys would recognise him anywhere. He held back as Arthur and Drew grappled, pounding each other's backs.

 

“Welcome back to sunny Cardiff, my friend,” Arthur said, grinning and pointing upwards. “You'll notice I've ordered the sun for you since you're used to warmer climes.”

 

“You call this warm?” Drew countered, giving a mock shiver. “I'm likely to die of hypothermia.”

 

“I told you not to go to The Caribbean. You've become a hot-house plant.”

 

“Grand Cayman suits me very well, Arthur. You should try it more often. I haven't seen you since you visited three years ago.”

 

“That's because I work for a living. Not like you who spends most of his time basking on a beach, or swimming in those gorgeous waters...”

 

“Hey, I make decent money out of my business and, if it happens to be located in paradise, who am I to complain?” Drew rumpled Arthur's carefully combed hair. To Rhys, who stood watching, it was obvious that the dynamic between these two men had altered slightly. The modern day Lancelot smirked. “Besides, your work isn't all that bad either. I saw a photo of you living it up on your yacht in Monte Carlo recently.”

 

“What can I say? The Penderel yacht is moored there for most of the year and I love Formula One. It seemed a waste not to use it,” Arthur replied, returning the laugh before backing away. “As it was, I never got to stay for the race because of work, which is where you come in. But before we get down to business, I'd like you to meet Rhys Wilson.” Arthur beckoned Rhys forward as he spoke and performed the introductions.

 

Rhys shook Drew's proffered hand; Drew's handshake was firm and his smile open. Yet, after a second, the former knight's eyes narrowed as he stared at Rhys.

 

“Have we met before?” Drew asked, his mind appearing to search through his memories. “Maybe with Arthur?”

 

“I don't think so,” Rhys replied, disentangling his hand from Drew's while casting a hopeful glance at Arthur. Did they want Drew to remember in a crowded railway station?

 

Quickly, Arthur rode to the rescue. “No, Drew. Rhys is a new work colleague. Well, he's a friend too, but I only met him a few days ago. We're working on the same project and he's been a huge help. It's amazing how well we get along, too. Got a lot in common.”

 

“Right,” Drew said slowly, though as he glanced between the two men, it was clear he found that difficult to believe. Arthur was a sportsman, definitely into physical pursuits while this Rhys looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over.

 

“I'm stronger than I look,” Rhys said, then coloured right up to the tips of his ears.

 

Drew's frown deepened. “How do you know what I'm thinking?”

 

Wrapping his arm around Rhys' neck in a wrestling hold, Arthur grinned, patting his warlock on the head. “Come on, Drew! Even I knew what you were thinking. I mean... it's obvious. Rhys is kinda a science geek and I'm... not. Mind you, he's a brave science geek 'cause he saved my life just minutes after meeting me. So I guess I owe him.” Arthur offered as an explanation. “Come on. Let's get out of here. I parked the car in the drop off area and no doubt I've picked up a parking ticket by now. I'll explain everything once we get back to the apartment. You can stay with me, Drew.”

 

As Drew bent to pick up his travel-bags, Rhys said telepathically, _“Thanks. I forgot for a moment there. It was a bit spooky seeing Lancelot again... and he almost remembered me! But you can let me go now. I'm not about to make that mistake again.”_

 

Arthur freed Rhys and, taking one of Drew's bags, he led the way from the station. Despite the fact that he was apprehensive about introducing Drew to Gwen, he felt surprisingly light-hearted now that four members of the original Round Table were back together.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Impressive.” Drew nodded, as he stood on the roof terrace of Arthur's apartment, gazing out over the wide expanse of Cardiff Bay, the evening sun pleasantly warm on his face. He might not admit to it, but he was enjoying the fresher weather, the breeze which blew in from the water preventing the temperatures from reaching levels which were too hot to bear. “How long have you lived here?”

 

Arthur took a swallow from his bottle of beer before replying. “About four years. It's a great place to live. Cardiff has changed a lot since you left.” He wiped some froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Ever think of coming back?”

 

Drew shook his head. “No way. There's nothing here for me anymore.”

 

“Don't you have relations here?” Rhys asked, joining in the conversation from a sun-lounger, set out on the decking by a large pot plant. He was a little more blasé about Arthur's home, having stayed the night before. They'd arrived back late from Scotland and Arthur had refused to drive to Newport where Rhys was renting a small terraced house, suggesting he should stay in one of the guest bedrooms instead. The modern penthouse might not be quite Rhys's style, but he was just the tiniest bit envious.

 

Drew turned sideways to answer Rhys, resting his arm and drink on the balcony balustrade. “I lost my father when I was young and my mother died some years ago.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Rhys said quickly, his voice full of understanding. He'd seen too many deaths and none more poignant than those whom he'd sent on their final journey to Avalon. “I know what it's like to lose people you love.”

 

“Thank you. I barely remember my dad, but I was a teenager when Mum passed away, so it took me a while to get over her loss, but time does make a difference,” Drew admitted with a wistful smile. “Now, apart from a couple of elderly aunts who live in Caerleon, there isn't anyone I'm close to.”

 

“Which is why my mum took him under her wing,” Arthur smiled. “She has a thing for waifs and strays,” he continued but without his usual edge of sarcasm. “Not that Drew was a waif. He still had his mother then.”

 

“I did and Ygraine was good to her, too. Gave her a job as her cook, which Mum loved to do.”

 

“Thank goodness for that. One thing my mother cannot do is cook,” Arthur said with a grimace. “Molly saved us from starvation. Don't worry, Rhys, Mother won't be doing the cooking tomorrow night. Since Drew's mum died, father insisted we get a fancy chef. Mind you, even he admits his roast dinners can't hold a candle to Molly's.”

 

“Talking of food,” Drew said, stretching and rubbing his taught stomach. “Are you going to feed me tonight? And don't say you're going to cook 'cause you take after your mother in the food department.”

 

“Didn't you eat on the plane?” Arthur asked, looking totally unconcerned. Cooking was not one of his strong points, but what did it matter? That's what restaurants and take-outs were for and, if all else failed, he could always raid his parents' fridge. Chef George always made extra just for him.

 

“Yes! But that was hours ago. I've been on the train to Cardiff since then, and you might remember the train was late. We got stuck outside Swindon for ages.”

 

Both Arthur and Rhys grinned in resignation. “The joys of train travel in Britain. Some things never change,” Arthur remarked. “But don't fret, I won't inflict my cooking on you, though my skills have improved. I've ordered a Thai take-out, instead.”

 

While Arthur was talking, a shiny red Mini-Cooper drove into the parking lot at the side of the building and a leggy, dark-haired maiden unfolded herself gracefully from the driver's seat, grabbing Drew's attention. She smoothed her unruly curls and straightened her black and white print dress.

 

“Now there's someone I might come back to the UK for,” Drew stated, watching as the young woman walked towards the entrance, balancing perfectly on her extremely high heels.

 

Arthur's eyes followed the direction of Drew's gaze and he immediately blanched. Guinevere! He'd been right about Drew and Gwen and he was going to be rebuffed once more. Only, she wasn't Guinevere and he had no bond with Gwen other than close friendship. After doing a lot of soul searching that afternoon, he'd vowed that, if Gwen was attracted to Drew, he wouldn't interfere and Arthur Penderel was as true to his word as was Arthur Pendragon.

 

 

“That's Gwen, my PA, though I've no idea why she's here... unless she has something important to tell us. You'll meet her in a moment or two.” And Arthur went to answer his intercom and allow Gwen into the complex.

 

Watching from the sidelines, Rhys witnessed Drew's anticipation and Arthur's dejection. Why did it have to be so? Since so many other fates seemed different in this incarnation, it didn't seem fair that three of the people he cared for most should be embroiled in a love triangle once more.

 

Whoever wrote the adage that all was fair in love and war didn't know what they were talking about. War was the very devil... and love could hurt like hell. Rhys knew that only too well from his own experience, yet he couldn't ignore the hope which was growing inside him that his Freya might be reborn as well... and this time they might have a chance of a life together.

 

Meanwhile, Arthur was welcoming Gwen into his apartment, while Drew hovered in the background waiting for his introduction. Surprisingly, Rhys saw Arthur take hold of Gwen's shoulders and plant a light kiss on her cheek. Did this mean the prat was actually prepared to fight for her love? Gwen appeared slightly taken aback by his action, too, though she didn't seem upset.

 

“Hi, Gwen. I didn't expect to see you tonight...” Arthur stumbled over his words. That probably wasn't the best greeting if he wished to woo Gwen. “I mean... it's not that I'm not happy to see you. You know you can drop by any time you like...” His voice died away as he saw the look of bewilderment on Gwen's face at his hesitation and how her expression changed to one of interest as her glance strayed beyond him to his other visitor.

 

However, remembering his promise on non-interference, Arthur cleared his throat and stood aside as he said, “Gwen, this is Drew Spears, a very old friend of mine who's agreed to help us with the Easdale problem. Drew, I'd like you to meet Gwen Armour, my wonderfully efficient PA and one of my closest friends.”

 

Smiling and excessively sexy, Drew stepped forward. He took hold of Gwen's right hand and, bowing over it, he brushed his lips over her skin. Neither Arthur nor Rhys thought the old-fashioned greeting out of order as they were transported back in time. If Gwen was surprised, she certainly wasn't offended as she gave Drew one of her softly glowing smiles.

 

“It's very nice to meet you, Gwen.” Drew's voice was full of warm admiration, while his eyes held her mesmerised.

 

“ _Arthur,” Rhys hissed. “Are you just going to let Drew step in and steal her away? Do something!”_

 

Arthur stared at his warlock with narrowed eyes. _“She isn't mine, so technically she can't be stolen from me.”_ Yet, clearly, he wasn't adverse to Rhys's helpful hint as he addressed Gwen aloud, “Is there a particular reason you came by, Gwen? Like I said, you're welcome, but it's not like you to visit unexpectedly.”

 

Gwen, finally, pulled her hand back from Drew's grasp and her dark skin flushed prettily. It was true she didn't visit Arthur's home by chance, not since she'd interrupted his clearly intimate dinner date with the lovely Vivian. That woman might have been beautiful but she was also a spiteful witch and Gwen was eternally glad when Arthur had decided to ditch her. Gwen would be the last person to admit she'd been jealous because that would mean she had feelings for her boss, which, of course, she didn't. They were best friends and so she was very protective. After all, being a rich and eligible bachelor, Arthur had had many unsuitable women make a play for him.

 

What was she thinking? The flustered PA shook herself from her reverie. This Drew Spears had quite an effect on her... though why he should prompt her to question her feelings about Arthur, she had no idea. She set her confusion aside and got down to business where she was on much steadier ground.

 

“It's Anna,” she blurted out, still slightly disorientated.

 

Immediately, Arthur was alert. “What's happened? Has Anna had an accident... or been arrested, or something?” It hadn't been the first time Anna's profession as a photo-journalist had got her into trouble, but normally in third world countries where she'd exposed government fraud... or worse. As far as he'd known, this current job had only been reporting at the Cannes Film Festival. They'd even arranged to meet up on the yacht in Monte Carlo, but his schedule had been ruined by the happenings in Scotland.

 

“No! No, nothing like that,” Gwen said hurriedly. “But it does seems weird. She texted me this afternoon. She's not coming home tomorrow.”

 

“That's hardly shocking news. You know, Anna. She's always rushing off somewhere at the drop of a hat, chasing a story,” Arthur replied, yet his brow furrowed. “Though it's unusual she would disappoint Mother like that; not at the last moment. Does my mother know?”

 

“I don't think so,” Gwen answered, biting her lip. “I met your mother for lunch and she's still planning Anna's homecoming dinner. I did text Anna back to ask for details, but she's being very mysterious.”

 

“She must be doing something she thinks I won't approve of because I haven't heard from her.” Arthur fished his mobile from his back pocket to check his messages; even went to the landline to check incoming calls. “Nope, no missed messages or calls. Mind you, she could be annoyed that I stood her up last week, but we've an understanding that work comes first, so that doesn't really hold water. Didn't she tell you anything, Gwen?”

 

“Apart from the fact that she's meeting someone in Paris... No, nothing else.”

 

“She's upsetting our parents to go chasing after some new bloke, who she'll probably fall madly in love with then chuck in a couple of months?” Arthur threw himself down on a large leather chair in disgust. “She might be my sister, but sometimes I feel like wringing Anna's neck.”

 

Gwen walked a little nearer to Arthur. “I don't think so. Not that she actually said anything in her text, but from the conversation we had on Skype -- remember, I told you I'd talked to her -- she was enthusing over this woman she'd met...”

 

Arthur's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “A woman? You're saying my sister is gay?”

 

“No! I only meant she seemed really taken with this... person,” Gwen said quietly, though she did squirm under Arthur's penetrating gaze before adding bravely, “Would it matter to you if she were?”

 

Arthur gave himself a few minutes to think. “No. Of course, it wouldn't matter... if that was really her choice. But, Gwen, Anna's been interested in guys since she was a teenager. Isn't it kinda strange she would suddenly prefer a woman?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Drew put in. “Especially since it seems she's never made a real connection with any of these men. Perhaps she's been looking for the wrong gender.”

 

Rhys wandered into the body of the room. “I don't know Anna, so I can't really comment... but is it usual for her to pass over her parents for a stranger? From what you've told me, Arthur, Anna thinks the world of her mum and dad.”

 

“She does.” Arthur sent Rhys a grateful glance. He had no idea why he should be so upset that his sister might be interested in a woman. This was the twenty-first century; he had gay friends. Yet the idea of Anna and this woman, whoever she might be, made him anxious. Merlin's funny feelings infecting him again. “Normally, she'd just have her latest boyfriend tag along on a visit to the citadel and watch as the poor sod was taken to pieces by Father's interrogation. I used to think she did it on purpose. Some sort of test. They mostly dropped off the radar after meeting Mum and Dad.”

 

“Just because she's meeting up with a woman doesn't mean she's gay,” Rhys said reasonably.

 

“Exactly! We're jumping to conclusions,” Arthur smiled again, relaxing once more and totally ignoring the fact that he was the one who'd raised the question about Anna's sexuality. “What's everybody doing standing around? Sit down. Gwen, you'll stay for dinner, won't you? I've ordered in Thai, which ought to be arriving soon and I always over order, so there should be plenty for us all.”

 

“It's not necessary, Arthur. You have friends...” Gwen suddenly felt self-conscious. She ignored his request to sit and backed towards the door. “I should go.”

 

But Arthur rose quickly and intercepted Gwen on her way out. “I do... but you're a friend too,” he said, taking hold of her arm lightly and leading her to the chair he'd just vacated. “Rhys and Drew don't mind if you join us. Do you, guys?”

 

Both Rhys and Drew assured Gwen they would be happy for her to stay and as Gwen had no plans for the evening, she allowed herself to be persuaded. Once more, Arthur's intercom chimed and a disembodied voice announced that their dinner had arrived.

 

“See! Perfect timing,” Arthur said with another grin and went off to collect the food and pay the delivery person.

 

 

*****

 

 

The conversation during dinner was pleasantly uncomplicated, accompanied with lots of laughter as Arthur and Drew caught up on their current lives and Drew got to know both Rhys and Gwen. When the food was totally consumed, the four friends got up from the table and ranged themselves around Arthur's large cream leather suite. Rhys grinned privately as Arthur made sure that Gwen sat in one of the chairs and went to sit on the sofa with Drew.

 

Anna had hardly been mentioned during dinner but, as they drank their coffee -- Arthur at least managed to operate the coffee machine -- he returned to the subject of his sister's whereabouts and her mysterious friend.

 

“Gwen, are you sure Anna didn't tell you who her new friend was?” he asked, taking the other chair.

 

Swallowing another sip of her coffee, Gwen placed the mug carefully on the table before her. “No, Arthur. I would have told you if she had,” she replied, bridling a little. Gwen had no idea why, but she thought Anna was being strangely secretive, and it bothered her that she couldn't be more forthcoming with Arthur. “Though she did say I would love this woman when I met her, so she must be intending to bring her back to Cardiff. She just didn't say when.”

 

“And that was it?” Arthur continued with his interrogation, not realising he was doing a very good impression of his father. “Anna didn't mention her name?”

 

“She mentioned she was beautiful, but when I tried to get more out of her, Anna clammed up. You know how stubborn she can be, Arthur.”

 

Gwen was wilting under Arthur's stare and he immediately regretted taking his frustration out on her. “I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean to give you the third degree. I'm just worried about Anna. About a number of things if I'm honest.”

 

“Easdale?” Gwen asked, her tender heart full of sympathy for the man she'd cared about for such a long time, but one she thought was miles out of her league.

 

“Yes. One of the things,” Arthur said, smiling at her to rob the tension of yet another question. “I take it you didn't come to tell us Matthew has discovered the name of our anonymous poster?”

 

“I'm afraid he hasn't. Not yet. Actually, he's a bit puzzled.” Gwen edged forward to the edge of her chair. “Whenever he feels he's getting close, he loses the trail. Cybernet trail, that is,” Gwen added for the benefit of Drew. “Matthew's sure he's chasing someone who really knows their way around a computer. Not just your run of the mill hacker.”

 

“ _Or someone who knows how to use magic to manipulate the web,” Rhys said, directing his voice to Arthur while seeming intent on listening to Gwen._

 

Arthur said nothing, but his almost imperceptible nod expressed his agreement.

 

“I hope you haven't asked me over here to help with that,” Drew stated with an apologetic grin. “Because me and computers don't see eye to eye.”

 

“Of course not,” Arthur said. “We need your help up at Easdale to search for something hidden in these weird quarries which have filled up with sea water. I don't think they're very deep, but the bottoms are probably rocky and sharp and there could be deeper holes in places.”

 

“The visibility is next to nothing,” Rhys added. “And I say that from personal experience. When I jumped in to save Arthur, I couldn't see a thing. I had to feel around for him.”

 

“Yeah, it was lucky you found me or I'd have drowned.”

 

Drew's brown eyes darkened in shock. “That's not like you, Arthur. I've always thought you were a pretty strong swimmer.”

 

“I was unconscious at the time due to a crack on the head,” Arthur said, with a tiny self-depreciating smile. “I owe Rhys my life.”

 

Turning to Rhys, Drew's smile brightened the room. “Thanks for that. I might not see this reprobate all that often, but I'd be sad to lose him.”

 

The four friends shared a laugh, but Arthur couldn't help but notice that Gwen's attention was caught by Drew's gleaming smile. He cleared his throat, audibly, before turning back to Drew. “Will you help us? We've made friends with one of the islanders. I'm sure she's not into diving, since she's an old-aged pensioner... though you never know these days.” His eyebrows quirked. “But she does know a lot of local information.”

 

“I'm here to help. Anything you need.”

 

“Thanks, Drew.” Arthur leaned over and shook Drew's hand. “I knew I could rely on you.”

 

“Right. Now we've got that established,” Drew said, relaxing back into the cushions of the couch and stretching his legs out. “What are we looking for?”

 

“Well... we're not exactly sure,” Rhys admitted, trying hard to be as laid back as this modern day Lancelot. “Something that can cause the water turbulence, but we don't know what.”

 

“Also, we do know there are chemicals in the water,” Arthur added, honestly. “Nothing that should cause too much harm as long as we take care.”

 

Drew was beginning to look slightly perplexed. “So we're looking for something unknown in polluted waters. Where do these chemicals come from... and why are you interested?” His glance strayed between the two men. Clearly, he was sensing there was some mystery about the dive.

 

Once more, Arthur cleared his throat. “Rhys is our geophysicist and it's been alleged the contamination comes from one of Camelot's fracking sites near Glasgow.”

 

“Hell! That can't be good for business.” Drew wiped his hand across his face. He'd been travelling for over twenty-four hours and he was finding it hard to concentrate. He recalled his time as a navy diver and how he'd been able to do much longer stints without feeling the least tired. And before that... but here his jaded brain hit a wall. His life on Grand Cayman was making him soft. He gave himself a mental shake, returning to the problem at hand. “But is that possible? I'm not an expert on Scotland, yet I was stationed at Faslane, which is south of those islands. I wouldn't have thought pollution could travel that far.”

 

“It's not impossible though, under the circumstances, unlikely,” Rhys answered, feeling a bit exhausted himself. Ever since he'd met Arthur, he'd been on the go.

 

“Have you ever dived in these waters?” Gwen asked. She couldn't explain why, but Drew felt somehow familiar and she liked what she saw. He was a very good-looking man, his smile friendly and his brown-eyed glance caring. Perhaps brown eyes did not trump Arthur's gorgeous blue gaze, but then Arthur had always been above her and Gwen was realistic enough not to waste her life pining over what she couldn't have.

 

“As a matter of fact, I have. Some of the boys and I used to spend time diving many of the wrecks near Oban, so I know where Easdale is, though I've never vis... visited.” Drew's words finished on a massive yawn, which he smothered with his hand. “I'm sorry. All this sounds quite mystifying and I'm guessing there's a connection, but right now I'm finding it difficult to stay awake. Maybe you could show me where to bunk down, Arthur, and we can catch up on the details tomorrow?”

 

“Sorry, Drew. I should have realised you'd be tired,” Arthur remarked, standing up and moving towards the passageway leading to the bedrooms. “Your bedroom's down the hall, second on the right. The first door is the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”

 

Drew stood and stretched the kinks out of his back, smiling down on both Rhys and Gwen, though his glance dwelt on Gwen for some long seconds. “It was really nice meeting you... both of you,” he amended quickly. “I'm sorry I'm spoiling the party, but I look forward to seeing you again.” Another yawn split his face. “I really should go before I disgrace myself any further.”

 

Gwen almost jumped up, saying kindly, “But you didn't. Jet-lag is a pain.” She smoothed her dress down, realising it had ridden up on her thigh as she sat. “I'm sure we'll see a lot of you in the near future.” Gwen blushed, thinking she'd seemed too eager. “I mean we'll be working together... for Camelot.”

 

Arthur suddenly found his carpet very interesting. He hated seeing his two best friends fall for each other, especially since he was in love with one of them.

 

“It was nice to meet you,” Rhys said, offering his hand to Drew and his silent sympathy to Arthur. “I should go. The drive to Newport doesn't take too long, but I've still got to pick up my car from Camelot.”

 

“Rhys, I could give you a lift to the office,” Gwen offered, always ready to help out. “It's not very far out of my way.”

 

“You can stay here again, Rhys. There are three bedrooms,” Arthur said with the slightest hint of a plea in his voice. He had the uncomfortable notion that he'd spend the next morning fielding Drew's questions about Gwen.

 

“Arthur, I have to go. This past week, I've hardly spent any time at home. I really have stuff to do. Like laundry. You might have a cleaning lady, but I've got to do all my own chores.”

 

“ _Poor Merlin! You always did have too many chores.”_

 

Aloud, Arthur said, grinning, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Don't we pay you enough to get someone in? I tell you, Rhys, if we can solve this problem, you'll never have to do chores again.”

 

There was a flurry of goodbyes, before Drew disappeared down the dimly lit corridor, while Arthur escorted Gwen and Rhys out of the flat to the elevator. “OK, allow me to see you both off the premises,” he said, pressing the call button. “And Gwen, thanks for coming over. It was nice to see you outside the office. We really should do it more often.”

 

Again, Gwen coloured up, her head drooping on her long neck, but she couldn't help but look up at Arthur through her dark lashes. “Thanks for asking me to dinner. It was nice.” Suddenly, she seemed flustered. What was she thinking, flirting with two men in one evening? “And we will be doing this again,” she blurted out. “I mean, all four of us... at the citadel this Saturday.”

 

At this Arthur laughed. “Yeah. All of us but the guest of honour, who's living it up in Paris with some unknown female. What's the bet that Anna's mysterious friend is Morgause?”

 

The elevator had reached the penthouse level and the doors opened, yet neither Rhys nor Gwen moved, each one frozen by Arthur's suggestion.

 

“Nah,” Arthur declared immediately. “That would be too much of a coincidence. Besides, we still don't know who Morgause is. The internet is anonymous. For all we know, he could probably be some hairy biker type.”

 

“You hope,” Rhys retaliated, but it was clear he was troubled. He'd been imagining the very same scenario as Arthur since Gwen had told them Anna wasn't coming home.

 

“You two! Stop! I'm sure Anna's friend will be perfectly... appropriate,” Gwen said, ever willing to think the best of a situation. “Goodnight, Arthur,” she said softly, then was taken completely by surprise as Arthur leaned forward, fleetingly brushing his lips over hers. He hadn't done anything like that since university.

 

“Night Gwen,” he almost whispered. So much for non-interference. He turned away, so she wouldn't see his blush. “Night Rhys. Drive safely and I'll see you both tomorrow.”

 

“See ya,” Rhys called, locking glances with Arthur as the doors closed.

 

“ _You've got a funny feeling, too, don't you?”_

 

Arthur's telepathic communication followed Rhys as the lift descended. He prayed Arthur was wrong, yet he couldn't rid himself of the feeling that someone had walked on his grave. Only he wasn't ready to admit that at present.

 

“ _Don't be a prat. Go to sleep. You're jealous; you're overtired and your imagination is playing tricks on you. Night, Arthur.”_

 

“ _Yeah, yeah, but you don't fool me. You feel it too, Merlin. And don't moan at me for calling you Merlin, because no one else can hear me, so I'll call you what I like. See you tomorrow, Merlin.”_

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank those readers who are leaving kudos. It's very reassuring to get some sort of feedback because it makes me feel that posting here is worthwhile.
> 
> Oh, and since I've found how to use italics here, I'm only using italics to denote telepathic speech.


	10. A Tale in Two Cities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting a new chapter on time tonight. We meet a few reincarnated characters... some who may have changed and some who might not. I hope you enoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that telepathic speech is in italics. 
> 
> I also need to tell you that I will miss my next posting date. I'm going on a holiday/vacation next Thursday and will be away from the computer for a while. I'll resume my normal posting schedule on 14th July.

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

A Tale in Two Cities

 

 

Anna marched into the lobby of The Park Hyatt Paris-Vendome on the Rue de la Paix, feeling slightly unsettled. Somehow, she hadn't expected Eloise to stay at quite such a luxurious hotel, imagining her in somewhere less opulent... more intimate.

 

She herself always stayed at the Daniel, off the Champs Elysees, which was less extravagant and certainly more quaint, but without losing any of The Hyatt's comforts. Anna could, of course, afford the very best, but she preferred to live within her own means and not rely on her father's fortune. It boosted her feeling of independence.

 

Though, as she passed through the busy lobby to one of the restaurants, she couldn't help but be impressed by the sleek, modern décor. If this five-star hotel didn't suit Anna's idea of Eloise's personality, it certainly suited her standing in the world.

 

As always, Anna had checked the background of her new friend. Not that she didn't know who Eloise Blessed was; the woman had an extremely high profile, but Anna found she couldn't switch off her own journalist instincts which had made her wary of taking anyone or anything at face value.

 

In her day, Eloise had been a top model, but she hadn't been content with her place in her chosen profession, which, it had to be said, wasn't always fair to the young wannabes it employed. She'd opened her own fashion house with a line in clothes and cosmetics, she'd become an agent with a highly respected school which taught every aspect of the business from modelling to design. This extremely successful, confident woman had intrigued Anna from the time she'd first set eyes on her in Cannes and, though she'd been a little surprised to be sought out, she'd been flattered, too. Now, if she could only land a shoot with Ms Blessed, she'd be over the moon.

 

Anna found her way towards the Le Pur restaurant where she was to meet with Eloise, but she was a little early, so she stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts. The last thing she wanted was to appear flustered and, without doubt, the phone-call she'd just had with her father had upset her. If only it had been Mum who'd answered her call. If only Benedict Penderel didn't expect everyone to jump when he said so.

 

She'd managed to explain, when finally she'd got a word in, that she was meeting someone regarding a job. At that, he'd calmed down a little as he understood the necessity of a good work ethic, but when he'd said goodbye, he'd added the express wish to see her back home by Sunday, at the very latest.

 

With a promise and a request to pass on her apologies and best wishes to her mother, Anna had closed the call with some relief, amazed she'd succeeded in being slightly dishonest with her father. Very often, he seemed to have a second sense of whenever his two children were telling him less than the truth. Thankfully, not this time.

 

Yet, Anna was slightly puzzled why she was so relieved. It was true she was hoping to persuade Eloise into giving her a chance to chronicle her life-style in pictures -- celebrity magazines would be fighting each other to acquire such an article, but that wasn't her sole purpose. She couldn't deny she felt a strange affinity for Eloise. She wanted to get to know her, but Anna hadn't lost all her investigative instincts. There was an air of mystery which surrounded Ms Blessed and her entourage and Anna was determined to discover its source.

 

Why she should be feeling nervous, she'd had no idea. Hadn't she embarked on this kind of mission more times than she ought in her short, though successful career? And in more dangerous places than a highly exclusive restaurant in one of the world's most sophisticated cities. This was an occasion to enjoy her work.

 

She took a deep breath and approached the maître d'hôtel, willing the butterflies in her stomach to be still. She hadn't felt this excited since she'd been on her first date with a friend of Arthur's with whom she'd thought herself totally in love. Of course, she'd been seventeen then and if she needed anything to calm her down it was the memory of that disastrous date. Not everything in life lived up to expectations and probably this encounter would be no different. Surely the allure she'd felt toward Eloise in the heat and excitement of a Cannes' night would disappear in the light of day.

 

Following the host, she was escorted to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant where she was told Eloise would join her in a few minutes. Anna sat back, looking around her as she waited. In her line of work, she'd learned how to be patient, and her work didn't always take place in such pleasant surroundings. She'd done shoots in famine torn areas, disaster struck countries and even places decimated by civil wars. In comparison, this restaurant was infinitely preferable.

 

She revelled in the atmosphere of elegance; warmed to the stylishly dressed clientèle as they socialised with their families, friends or business colleagues. Thank goodness she'd worn her emerald green day dress with its matching bolero jacket trimmed with bead-work. Her black patent stiletto, platform shoes and purse finished her ensemble.

 

Although, Anna was one of those beautiful women who looked good in any kind of attire, from jeans and khaki shirts to a kevlar jacket and helmet, today she felt good not just to fit into this world, but to dominate it.

 

Yet, suddenly, Anna knew that was untrue. A faint hush fell over the large room as Eloise swept in the door, and, not waiting for the host, she began to walk to her table. Clearly, Ms Blessed was a frequent visitor, meaning she had a table reserved just for her.

 

Anna almost gasped. To describe Eloise as doing anything as common as walking was almost insulting. She watched as this exquisite lady glided toward her. She was impressed, but her anatomical mind, sharpened over her career of capturing award-winning images, acknowledged that Eloise was probably not the most beautiful woman in the world, nor even in this room. Eloise had more than physical perfection of form... she had panache; she had presence and a magnetism which drew every eye.

 

Eloise's white sheath dress and yellow swing back coat seemed somehow reminiscent of the sixties, yet it suited her flawlessly, while her golden hair was swept up into a strange clasp of silver netting, studded with minute diamonds. On a normal person, such an ornament might be considered a little incongruous for a lunch time meeting, but it appeared completely in keeping with Eloise.

 

As she threaded her way amongst the tables, Eloise smiled to a number of acquaintances, but she didn't stop until she'd reached Anna. “Welcome, my dear,” she said in a soft lilting voice. “I've been looking forward to meeting with you again.” The host appeared behind her and held the chair for her to sit down. “I hope I haven't kept you waiting.”

 

“No, not at all,” Anna reassured her friend. “I only arrived moments ago, and I've been luxuriating in the ambiance. It's lovely.”

 

Making herself comfortable in her seat, Eloise smiled back. “You haven't been here before? I had assumed you might have stayed here with your parents.”

 

“No. Mother isn't a fan of living in grand hotels, so she persuaded Daddy to buy a little apartment... well, to be honest, it's not so little... for when they come to Paris.”

 

“That's probably a lovely notion for your parents. Unfortunately, my work commitments don't give me much time to look after a home. Staying here in this hotel and allowing myself to be pampered suits me very well.”

 

“I agree,” Anna said, happy to find herself in accord with this woman she admired. “When I'm on my own, I stay at the Hotel Daniel. It's sweet and not so expensive, but I like to make my own way.”

 

“Ah, you prefer to be independent. I like that in a young person.” Eloise smiled again, nodding her approval.

 

Anna found herself returning the smile enthusiastically. “Exactly. Plus, I prefer not to let my parents know all of my whereabouts.”

 

Eloise's arched eyebrows rose higher. “They don't approve of your job?” She lifted a hand, slightly, beckoning the hovering maître d'hôtel, who approached and, unobtrusively, placed the menus on the table.

 

“Oh, Mother does! She's always encouraged us to follow our dreams.” Anna grinned, remembering her mother's quiet support, but her happy expression quickly disappeared. “Father wasn't exactly enthusiastic when I told them I planned on going to art school, but I'm pretty sure he realised I'd follow my own path regardless of what he wanted. Since I've won the occasional award, I think he's secretly proud. Actually, not so secretly.” Anna found herself feeling a little dreamy as she pictured her father at her first award ceremony, his crinkled cheeks wet with joyous tears. “He might pretend to be an autocrat, but he's actually proud of how his children have turned out.”

 

Eloise inclined her head. “I can't speak for Arthur, but in your case, Benedict ought to be very proud. After all, you're an extremely gifted young woman.”

 

“Thank you,” Anna replied, smiling again. This woman made her feel good about herself, but it didn't stop her from enquiring. “Do you know my father?”

 

“Only a little. We've met socially... but no, I'm not familiar with him. I once knew your mother... long ago, but I doubt she'd even remember me.”

 

“How did you meet my mother?” Anna asked, sensing there might be a story and eager to hear about it. After all, she'd already decided to do more extensive research into Eloise... for work purposes.

 

“It was back in my school days. I was a very young pupil and she was already head girl, about to take her place in the world.” Eloise shook her head, dismissively, when in reality she was shaking off a memory. “Like I said, I'm sure she didn't even notice me.”

 

“Still, it's nice to know we have that connection,” Anna said, feeling this encounter was going very well. “And knowing my mother, I'm not at all sure you're right. She's very good at noticing people.”

 

Eloise laughed, a warm tinkling sound. “Who knows. Perhaps we'll find out in time.” She paused for a second, lifting the menu. “Shall we order now? But before we do, I've a confession to make; I asked you to meet me not purely for pleasure, though it is that too, but because I have a business proposition to offer you. It's been brought to my notice, that in this day and age I should be advertising my wares... my agency and modelling school.” Eloise seemed to sit a little straighter. “Now, call me old-fashioned, but I find advertising in the normal way quite vulgar. A large photo on a billboard or on the side of a bus, or a couple of minutes TV time...” She shivered in distaste. “I find those concepts quite daunting, but then it struck me that a tasteful photo-shoot, published in some chosen magazines, might be very acceptable. And, as fate would have it, I met you. There's no one to whom I would rather trust my school than the award winning photo-journalist, Anna Penderel.”

 

Anna sat there feeling more than stunned. She'd come here hoping for just such an outcome and she'd been willing to try every persuasion in the book, but now she didn't need to. The apple had dropped right into her lap. However, Eloise was talking again, and she returned her attention to her friend and, soon-to-be, client.

 

“Don't say anything yet. Let's eat and we can discuss our business afterwards. Though I should tell you that I would expect you to devote all your time and energy on my behalf. So, please, only say yes if you're willing to give me all of your passion, sweat and tears... metaphorically speaking, of course.” And, once again, Eloise's bell-like laughter filled Anna's ears.

 

Speechless, Anna could only nod. She was happy to devote a few minutes to studying the menu and she barely managed to order in a voice which wasn't much more than a whisper. In her head, she was frantically weighing her options. Which contracts might interfere with this new work and if there was any way she could shelve them for the present. There was no doubt whatsoever in Anna's head that she'd agree to work for Eloise.

 

Many photographers had tried to find a way into Ms Blessed's hallowed halls, but none had succeeded. Yet she had landed the job. Hell, she'd even start right after lunch, if that's what Eloise asked. The fact that she'd agreed to go back home by Sunday slipped completely from her mind.

 

 

*****

 

 

On the other side of the channel, in the headquarters of Camelot Industries Arthur was confronted by another confession... and a far from pleasant one.

 

Matthew had asked for an audience first thing in the morning and he now stood rather ill at ease in front of Arthur's desk. “I'm sorry, Sire,” Matthew blurted out, colouring up at his too direct approach.

 

Arthur's eyebrows rose while his chin dipped as he stared up at the young man. “Sire?” And when Matthew didn't reply. “Don't you mean sir? And believe me, there's no need for titles. Arthur will do fine... or Mr Penderel, if you feel you must.” He knew he was babbling like a brook, yet his mind refused to accept the fact that Matthew knew he'd once been Mordred. “You're sorry you haven't been able to figure out who Morgause is?”

 

“No!” Matthew's voice was loud in the sun-bathed office. “Yes! I mean, I haven't figured that out... yet, but I'm sure I will, given the time. Though I have to admit she's very clever... She's using the Dark net, if she is a she... But that makes it more difficult to trace her, but I have the software...”

 

“Matthew, I don't mean to complain, but do you think you could get to the point?”

 

For some seconds, Matthew's gaze seemed to concentrate on the scene beyond Arthur, the tiny white clouds scudding across a pale blue sky. He was almost visibly shaking. “That wasn't what I was apologising for.” Again there was another silence, as if he were steeling himself for his boss's reaction. “I'm sorry I killed you.”

 

“What?” It was Arthur's turn to remain close mouthed.

 

God. How did he reply to that? If only Merlin were here to advise him. Wait. He could call him telepathically, but he quickly discarded that idea. Merlin had said Mordred could mind talk too, so there was every chance he might overhear. Where was the... idiot when he needed him? Most probably taking a well earned sleep in.

 

Fine. He'd once been a king and he was now Camelot's Chief Operations Officer with a roving remit, who answered only to his father. Surely he could deal with this situation without anyone's help.

 

“Are you planning on killing me and apologising before hand?” Arthur asked, stalling for time.

 

“No, Sire.” Matthew was warming to his revelation. “I think you know exactly what I mean. I was so angry at you for executing Kara, I wanted revenge. I knew Morgana was the only one who could give me what I thought I deserved. Only, she was wrong. Such hate should never triumph, but I realised that too late. The moment I struck you down at Camlann, I saw I'd allowed myself to be corrupted by her obsessive enmity and I was glad to die for what I did to you.”

 

Clearly, Matthew remembered everything and there didn't seem much point in denying his recall. “I offered Kara a pardon, you know. I gave her a chance at a new start, but she was brainwashed by Morgana... and she had killed quite a few of my men, a fact she seemed quite proud of. She refused my offer and I had no choice but to execute her. If it helps, I didn't carry out that decision lightly.” Arthur placed his elbows on his desk, leaning forward, he caught and held Mordred's gaze. “Now what? Do you want to kill me again?”

 

“No! Never. I was wrong, which is why I'm saying sorry... though I know it isn't enough.” Matthew stepped forward till he was almost touching the desk. “I want to help you and Merlin, and this time perhaps I can atone for what I did,” he said earnestly.

 

Arthur sat back, almost recoiling from Mordred's closeness. “That remains to be seen. Why should I trust you?” He tipped his chair back and watched the other man closely.

 

Shaking his head somewhat sadly, Matthew answered, “There's no proof I can give you...”

 

The chair dropped back in place and Arthur stood. If this man was a sorcerer, he would stand little chance against any ill he wished to do him, but Arthur refused to show fear. Instead, he asked another question. “Why is it that out of all the people I know who've been reborn you're the only one who remembers his past life? None of the others... Gwen, Lancelot... my parents...”

 

“Perhaps because I have magic,” Matthew suggested, interrupting his boss, anxious to prove his worth.

 

But Arthur wasn't prepared to accept that explanation. He physically squared up to Mordred, or Matthew as he was calling himself this time around. “That doesn't hold up. Anna had magic. She was more powerful than you and yet she has no idea she was once a High Priestess. As far as I know, she has no magic this time either.”

 

“I didn't know either,” Matthew explained, trying to remain calm. “Not till I was introduced to you and Merlin. And it didn't happen right away. When I saw you together, I had a funny feeling that you both seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Then I went to sleep that night and I dreamed of Camelot. Not as she is now, but the long-ago world.”

 

For a brief moment, Arthur said nothing. This young man's supposition could be right. Fiona, who was once Alice and who had magic had remembered after seeing himself and Merlin together. But that realization didn't help him deal with Matthew. He decided this was a time for plain speaking.

 

“Then why didn't you come in here and attack me? After all, Mordred hated my guts.”

 

The new Mordred shook his head decisively. “That's not true, or it was, but only at the end. I was lost in grief and Morgana exploited my feelings... but I'm not using her as an excuse. I was the one who betrayed Emrys to her. I was the one who killed you, using a blade forged in a dragon's breath. Yet the moment I ran you through, when you looked directly into my soul, I knew I'd slain a good man. One who didn't deserve to die. I was happy to leave that life behind.” Matthew clasped his hands, almost in prayer. “For so long, I've been awaiting the chance to make amends... and I promise this time I'll not waiver, nor let you down.”

 

Arthur wasn't sure what to reply. His instinct was to trust this man, but he'd done so once before. _“Merlin, where are you? Can we trust this Mordred?”_

 

And right on cue, Merlin almost fell into the room, causing both occupants to turn in his direction. “Morning,” he said with a wide smile. “What have I missed?”

 

Having felt somewhat abandoned, Arthur bypassed the pleasantries, going straight to grumbling. “You're late. Where have you been?”

 

“What? It's only just past nine, and traffic on the A48 is diabolical,” Merlin said, still smiling, though he sounded a little upset at Arthur's greeting. “Besides, for more than a week, you've had me chasing all over the UK. Do this, Rhys... do that, Rhys. Oh, let's go there Rhys and I'm whisked off in the blink of an eye. It's no wonder I needed a lie in.”

 

“You've no stamina, my friend. You should train more. Or, you could move closer to work, that would solve your commuting problems.”

 

“You're kidding? I happen to like where I live, and you think I should find somewhere nearer just cause it suits you?” Rhys huffed, wandering further into the room. “Not everyone can afford a penthouse on the bay. You always were a selfish... lunkhead!”

 

Arthur bristled, while his eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “You're calling me a lunkhead? Have you forgotten I can have you fired?”

 

Rhys shrugged. “No... but you won't. You need me.”

 

Using what he hoped was a private telepathic communication, Merlin asked, _“What's with Matthew... and why did you sound so desperate?”_

 

“ _He knows! He remembers his past life. He just came in here this morning and confessed to everything, killing me, the lot. But now he wants us to forgive him and let him help.”_

 

“ _He does? Boy! I didn't see that coming.”_ Merlin looked concerned. _“What have you told him?”_

 

“ _Nothing yet... I didn't want to say anything without talking to you first.”_ Arthur was trying to maintain a deadpan expression but he felt he could crack at any second.

 

Meanwhile, in the short hush that had fallen over the room, Mordred had started laughing. “You two are priceless,” he said and both men turned to him. “You haven't changed one bit. Always sniping at each other, instead of admitting you really like each other. You remind me of the good days in Camelot, before everything went down the tubes. I'm assuming you're having a private mind conversation?”

 

“Telepathy you mean? That's crazy,” Rhys said as he tried to buy some time till he worked out how best to deal with this Mordred. “You've been reading too many fantasy books.”

 

Arthur, however, recognised the game was up. “Merlin, don't waste your time. This is Mordred. He knows all about your magic. The question is... what is he going to do about it and whose side is he on.”

 

“Well, that's a start,” Mordred conceded, still maintaining his friendly expression, but his laughter died. “I'm not going to do anything but what you tell me... and I truly am on your side.” His steady gaze moved between Arthur and Merlin. “I don't expect you to believe me without conditions, so have me watched. Do anything which will make you both feel better, but give me a chance... please?”

 

There was another moment of silence, more drawn out this time, as Merlin and Arthur thought this offer over. Finally, Arthur shrugged and allowed Merlin to speak. “I suppose Arthur's right and there's no point in continuing to deny we're who you say. Yet, we don't trust you... not yet. It's possible you are a member of the light this time around. I actually think you tried to be that in your past life, but you went over to the dark side of magic the moment you were tested.”

 

Arthur was still looking a little surprised at his friend admitting he'd been right, but he dragged his attention back to Mordred. “That's a good point, Merlin. Who's to say you won't do that again?”

 

“I won't! But I can't give you any guarantees.” Mordred shook his head, looking crestfallen at the reminder of his fall from grace. “I don't know the future. I don't think anyone does in this life. I certainly haven't heard any prophesies...”

 

“You haven't?” Arthur perked up at this statement of fact. “Have you, Merlin? You were the one who foresaw my death at Camlann. How about now?”

 

“No,” Merlin stated, his voice sharp at the thought of losing Arthur again. “But that doesn't mean the future isn't written somewhere.”

 

“And Aithusa didn't mention when we met her the other day...”

 

Arthur was interrupted by Mordred's awed question. “Morgana's dragon is still alive? That is so cool!”

 

“Would everyone stop assuming she was Morgana's dragon, because they were only together because of circumstances,” Merlin said, slightly fractious. “I'll admit they looked after each other, but Morgana wasn't a dragonlord.”

 

“And you are?” Mordred's pale blue eyes opened wide in astonishment. “Why didn't I realise that?”

 

“Because Merlin is very good at keeping secrets,” Arthur replied, his drawn brow showing he was still a little disgruntled at that fact. He knew there was no point in raking over old coals, but he wished that Merlin had seen fit to tell Arthur before he was dying... tell him. This reincarnation business was confusing sometimes. “But none of that matters. Clearly, we three know who and what we were and who we are now. But we don't know who our present enemy or enemies are, nor what they're planning. Merlin -- I suppose we should call him Rhys, since it helps us focus on the present. Rhys and I believe that this Morgause has something to do with those plots and we need your computer skills to smoke her out. For the present, that's all we're prepared to tell you, but if you do seriously want to help us, then prove yourself by staying true to the oath you took as a knight all those years ago.” Arthur moved till he was standing directly in front of Mordred and he looked every inch the legendary king. “You let your shield of honour fall... now is the time to pick it up again.”

 

Metaphysically, Mordred knelt, his eyes bright on Arthur's face. “You won't regret your choice, my lord. It's all I've ever wanted... to serve you again.”

 

“Thank you, Matthew.” Arthur stressed the up-to-date name. “Just work hard to discover who this person is. She may just be an ordinary blogger with a conspiracy theory, or she could be who she pretends to be. Whichever it is, I'm relying on you to track her down.”

 

“I will. In fact, I'll get right back to that,” Matthew stated, almost backing out of the room. “She won't be able to hide from me forever. After all, I do have magic... which I promise to use in your service... both your services.” He glanced again at Merlin. “Emr... Rhys, if you want to place any boundaries on my magic, I wouldn't object. I know I have a lot to do to win back your trust.”

 

Merlin's lips pursed as he considered Mordred's offer, but he quickly discarded that idea. If the enemy had as powerful magic as he surmised, they'd need all the help they could get, and keeping Mordred onside seemed important. Besides, he sensed the Druid's magic was less strong in this present day. He'd be able to handle Mordred should the need arise.

 

“No, Matthew. That won't be necessary. If Morgause is the High Priestess reincarnated, then we're going to need all the forces we can muster,” Merlin said, slowly at first, but warming to his theme. “In fact, you should probably brush up on your skills. Your magical aura is nowhere near as strong as it was a millennium and a half ago.”

 

“I know, though I have no idea why. I'd love to practise, especially if you'd help me, Merlin... I mean, Rhys.” Apparently, Matthew was having difficulty keeping the two timelines apart.

 

“Right, if you two warlocks have finished, we'd all best get back to business,” Arthur reminded them, assuming his position as COO. “Matthew, you get back to your computer, but remember this work is highly confidential. Gwen knows about it, so you can confer with her, if neither Rhys nor I are around... though Gwen doesn't remember her past life and I don't want anyone reminding her. Stick with the present day stuff when talking to Gwen and remember to call Merlin Rhys in public.”

 

“I will... and I won't stop working till I've found our illusive blogger. This time, I won't let you down.” With a final bow, the young man turned and left the room, feeling a whole lot happier now he'd laid his cards on the table and not been fired.

 

Left alone, the two men exchanged glances but it was Merlin who spoke up, voicing their worries. “We had no choice but to trust him and, if it makes you feel any better, I sensed no evil in him. At present, he barely has magic, though probably enough to manipulate a computer.”

 

Arthur nodded and started tidying his desk. “Let's hope you're right.” He instructed his tablet to shut down. “Come on, Rhys. I've told Gwen to find us a house near Easdale. Much as though I like the luxury of hotels, I think it best we have the privacy of our own place. You, Drew, Gwen and I are flying up to Glasgow on Sunday. We'll rent a car and drive to wherever Gwen finds us a house.”

 

“Gwen's coming with us?” Rhys asked, more than a little surprised. “I would've thought you'd want to keep Gwen and Drew apart.”

 

“I need Gwen there... for work purposes only, before you start getting any ideas,” he added quickly... too quickly. “And, I told you, Gwen is perfectly free to make up her own mind about who she dates.”

 

“Really?” Rhys asked again but his voice was edged with scepticism. “You looked really jealous last night.”

 

“I did not!” Arthur stopped, expecting Merlin to contradict him, but his friend just grinned knowingly. Robbed of a chance to argue his case, he returned to business. “Gwen's coming because I need her to set up a base of operations. Got it?”

 

Rhys couldn't stop laughing, but he did try. “Sure, I understand.” He decided to stop teasing his slightly flustered boss. “Have you any idea how long we'll be away? I only want to know what to pack,” he concluded innocently.

 

“I've no idea,” Arthur admitted, shrugging on his suit jacket. “I suppose it all depends on how quickly we find anything. I'd have preferred to start out tomorrow, but I can't put off my parents' dinner party, particularly since Anna is missing in action.”

 

“Have you heard from her?”

 

“I'm afraid my sister is blocking my phone-calls. Don't worry, it's the sort of thing she does when she's feeling guilty,” Arthur explained while pulling down the cuffs of his white shirt. “I just have to be patient and wait till she sees fit to get in touch. Now, you and I are off to the labs. I want to check the latest chemical reports from our fracking sights around the UK. Make sure they're in the clear. We can't afford to be blind-sided.”

 

As Arthur and Rhys passed through the outer office, they saw Gwen talking on the phone, while Matthew sat behind his computer screen, beavering away. Gwen quickly looked up, covering the mouthpiece.

 

“Gwen, we're going to visit the labs, then we're meeting Drew for lunch,” Arthur informed his PA, his voice business-like, yet his smile anything but. “How's that booking coming along... had any luck?”

 

“Not yet,” Gwen answered, a frown appearing between her brows. “But don't worry, I'll keep at it till I find something. It's very short notice though, so we might have to take pot luck.”

 

Again Arthur smiled. “I'm sure you'll find us something, Gwen. I've every faith in you.”

 

Pointing at the phone, from where a rather frustrated voice was calling, Gwen mouthed an apology and returned to her conversation. “Yes... I'm here,” she said to the caller, waving good-bye as Arthur and Rhys left. She would find some place. She would walk over coals if Arthur asked it of her.

 

On the other side of the office, Matthew's blue-green gaze deepened. So, there was still a connection between Arthur and his queen. The revelation made him smile. It was just like the old days... but not. This time there would be a happier ending, if he had anything to do with it. Oh, boy! He was working with King Arthur and Emrys. Being reborn was full of surprises.

 

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's chapter ten. I'd love to know what you thought of my introduction of the original characters set in the modern age. I'd also like to thank those who've left kudos for this story. It is really very good to get feedback.


	11. Ygraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces Arthur's mother. As Ygraine had already died in the show, I felt more free to explore her character, though I did try to write her as I supposed the original Queen Ygraine was. I hope you like what I've done with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I'm posting the next chapter of this story on July 14th. I know it's late in the day, but I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Telepathic speech is in italics.

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Ygraine

 

 

Surprisingly, the spell of good weather continued when Rhys awoke mid-morning on Saturday. At last he had a day off. Camelot Industries and Arthur had demanded all his attention over the previous couple of weeks and he was relieved to have some time to recharge his batteries. Thank goodness he didn't have a hangover.

 

The previous evening he'd gone with Drew and Arthur to a pub after work and he'd watched on, laughing, as Arthur and Drew proceeded to celebrate being reunited by getting fairly plastered. Their antics had reminded him of the celebratory feast when Lancelot had been knighted that first time and prince and subject had debated the assets of Morgana and Guinevere and he had asked Gwen the teasing, but visionary question... Arthur or Lancelot?

 

Only this time he'd been warned never to make such a suggestion to Gwen and neither woman had been spoken of by Arthur or Drew; Morgana because she wasn't exactly flavour of the month at present and Gwen because Arthur steered the conversation away whenever Drew mentioned her name.

 

Though both men had tried to persuade him to stay over, Rhys had insisted on driving home and had stuck to soft drinks. He felt Arthur should have time to catch up with his childhood friend alone, just as he had a standing arrangement to meet up with Will on Saturdays when they'd go to the movies if the weather was inclement, or went walking or cycling in summer. He'd had to cancel the previous week, so he was determined not to do so again.

 

He checked his watch as he ate his leisurely breakfast and realised he'd better hurry if he was to pick up Will in time. No doubt they'd take advantage of the good weather to go biking.

 

The afternoon with Will, however, wasn't a great success, though the sun continued to shine. Rhys absent-mindedly considered that, if this continued, 2020 was shaping up to be one of the UK's warmest summers in normal living memory, the result perhaps of climate change. The temperatures hadn't yet reached record levels, but it was still very early summer. Rhys and Will had driven up to Merthyr Tydfil bike park and ridden through some of the easier trails.

 

At first, Rhys thought everything was fine, though Will did seem a bit quiet. They'd taken a picnic lunch and eaten it in the shade of the trees. Rhys tried to draw his friend out, yet Will remained distant, he might even be described as brusque and was definitely acting secretively once more. Of course, Rhys had guessed from Will's attitude on the previous afternoon, when he'd visited the lab with Arthur, that his old pal wasn't amused by the obvious closeness which was developing between himself and the boss, or that last weekend he'd been passed-over in favour of Arthur.

 

So it wasn't really a surprise when Will brought up the subject, though the depth of Will's scorn shocked Rhys. “So you and the rich moron are an item now?”

 

Rhys pursed his lips before replying. “We're working together and will be for a while, but we do get along, if that's what you mean?”

 

“The two of you looked real cosy to me,” Will sneered, taking a bite from his sandwich which muffled his next statement, though embarrassment might have been the cause too. “Sure it's not something... closer?”

 

Rhys turned in shock and ground out, “Just what are you getting at?”

 

Will laughed mockingly. “Come on, Rhys. I always knew you were a bit naïve, but you're not that clueless. Are you and Arthur doing the business?”

 

Scrambling up, Rhys stared at the man on the ground with a mixture of exasperation, sorrow and anger... though anger was the predominant emotion. “That's a crazy accusation. And it's not true.”

 

“Oh-oh! Methinks you protest too much.” Will quoted Shakespeare with another snide grin. “You've been practically living in his pocket since you met on Easdale.”

 

Rhys swallowed his irate response. He'd no idea why Will was acting this surly. Perhaps he was jealous, or more likely he was annoyed at Rhys for making friends with someone he saw as an enemy from the other side of the divide. But for all that, Will was being particularly vehement, which was slightly out of character. Was someone influencing him, or was Rhys now so paranoid he was seeing bogey men round every corner?

 

“Will, you know me. You know I'm not... that way inclined.”

 

“Do I?” Will started packing the remains of his lunch away in his bike's saddlebag. Refusing to look at Rhys, he continued huffily. “A few weeks ago, it wouldn't have entered my head...” He shifted back to face Rhys and his eyes were dark, his chin firm. “But there's something... something deep going on between you and Arthur. I can't describe it... but it's there. And no, I don't know you're not gay. I know you've never made any moves on me, but then maybe I'm not your type. Maybe I'm not rich enough.”

 

“Will! Where's all... this spite coming from? It's not like you and you know I'm not mercenary.”

 

“OK. I'll give you that, but in all the years I've known you, I've never seen you date a woman. Now that has to be strange.”

 

Rhys was at a loss. How did he answer that? Will was correct, it was just his reasoning which was wrong. In his very long life, Merlin had fallen in love... and not just with Freya, who had been his first love. There had been other women. He'd even married one. He'd taken Sefa as his wife. Sefa, the serving girl from Camelot, who he'd found some years after Gwen had died and he'd not yet become so jaded that he'd been wary of forming attachments.

 

They'd been happy for few years, enjoying each other's company and comfort if not deliriously in love. But Sefa had already been older when they'd met each other again and had died soon after. Merlin had been heartbroken, but perhaps more because the loss of Sefa meant he'd be alone again.

 

For some centuries, he'd travelled extensively, not giving himself a chance to put down roots, but all that had changed in the fourteenth century when he'd met Yvette. She'd been small and pretty, fine-boned with black hair and soft brown eyes, which would crinkle at the corners when she'd smile... and she'd smiled a lot. She'd reminded him of Freya and he'd allowed himself to fall in love again. Once more he'd experienced what it was like to be normal... to be content. They hadn't married, but they had been close... very close... in every way known to man.

 

He'd ignored his conscience, warning him that this wasn't a good idea. After all, Yvette was a Druid, though she hadn't known it. How could she when Druidism had died out a few hundred years before. Yet she had been a herbalist, so Merlin and she had lots in common, besides being in love. It angered him that her profession was the very thing that had taken her from him.

 

With creeping stealth and as evil as any sorcerer, The Black Death had come to England in the mid thirteen hundreds. Unlike many other healers, Yvette had worked unselfishly to save as many lives as possible and in the end she'd lost her own. With all his magic, Merlin couldn't heal her, though he'd tried desperately hard. He'd attempted to cure others too, but with few successes. It seemed that God had turned his back on humanity.

 

After that terrible time, Merlin had pleaded with every deity he knew to let him die... but The Triple Goddess hadn't taken away her gift of immortality. Finally, Merlin realised that such a gift was a double-edged sword.

 

Mourning for his lost love, horrified by a disease which he could do little to halt and doubting Arthur would ever return, he'd made his way back to Glastonbury. Poor Yvette had been buried in one of the mass graves which were dug all over the country and all he could bring back with him was a heart-shaped silver pendant he'd given her. In his own little memorial ceremony, he'd thrown it out over the water, hoping to see a hand rise up to catch it, but the surface remained unbroken. It seemed even Freya had abandoned him.

 

For the first time in his life, he became a true hermit, barely existing in a small one-room hut and ready to forget the outside world. It was a testament to Merlin's redoubtable optimism that he'd finally thrown off his lethargy. Yet never again had he allowed himself to enter into a lasting relationship with another woman.

 

There had been times when he was tempted, but he'd learned his lesson too well. No matter if the lady of his choice lived a long and healthy life, she would always leave him... and there were all the complications of whether there would be children, or grandchildren and he would have to watch each one of them grow old and die. Merlin doubted even he was strong enough to weather such utter heartache.

 

But at Will's suggestion, totally wrong though it was, Merlin understood that for the first time in over a thousand years he could love again. That gloriously amazing comprehension made him grin from ear to ear.

 

“You're wrong, Will. You don't know how wrong. I've just been too preoccupied to find myself a girlfriend, but I've a feeling all that is going to change soon.” Without waiting for his friend to mount up, Rhys cycled down the trail, exhilarated by the sunshine and the slight breeze against his face, but most of all by the possibilities Arthur's return had brought to his no-longer immortal life.

 

It was a pity he hadn't paid more attention to Will, otherwise he would have discovered that Will had found a higher placed job, working with the emerging rival firm called Sigan Fuels. Though perhaps Rhys would have been too happy to place any significance on the name.

 

His good mood persisted while he got ready to go to dinner at the Penderels, but he couldn't help being slightly anxious as he took the elevator to the penthouse. Had Drew had a life changing afternoon as well? Would Rhys walk into Arthur's apartment to be called Merlin by his erstwhile friend? And would Lancelot be able to absorb the shock?

 

Yet when Arthur opened the door to Merlin, all seemed fairly calm inside. Arthur was looking particularly well groomed in a deep blue three piece suit with white shirt and matching tie. He was clean shaven, and his hair was styled and shining gold. Looking as he did, Rhys could clearly understand why he was regarded as one of the UK's most eligible bachelors. The strange thing was that Arthur seemed completely unaware of that fact.

 

“Rhys. You're actually on time this century.” Arthur smiled magnanimously, robbing his words of their sting, then he turned and bawled in the direction of the bedrooms. “Come on, Drew. Get your ass in gear!”

 

As a rather rushed Drew tumbled into the living room, trying to fix his tie, Rhys could see he was dressed in a dark grey suit. Clearly, dinner in the Penderel family was a formal event.

 

“Does this tie look OK with this suit?” Drew asked, seemingly ill at ease in his attire.

 

Arthur threw him a look before bursting into laughter. “Plaid! You've got to be kidding me. Where did you get that thing? A charity shop... or maybe it was a Christmas present from your aunts?”

 

At Arthur's last words, Drew blushed. “Well, excuse me, but we don't really do ties in the Caribbean. It's the only one I have... and at least they like me enough to send me gifts.”

 

“Sorry. They're really sweet old dears and I shouldn't mock,” Arthur said, genuinely contrite while he tilted his head to one side, surveying the offending tie. “Actually, you could wear that where we're going tomorrow and be quite at home, but I'm not sure it's suitable for tonight. You could go without, or I could lend you one.”

 

“Please, lend me one. I'd hate to upset your parents.”

 

“Drew, you could show up in overalls and my mother wouldn't give a damn,” Arthur shouted as he left the room to go in search of another tie, leaving Rhys alone with Drew.

 

“Hi, Rhys. Have you had a good day?” Drew asked with a huge grin. “You look like you've caught the sun.”

 

Against Drew's established tan, Rhys felt decidedly pale and if he had the beginnings of a tan, the most he could hope for was a reddening of his skin. “I spent the day cycling with a friend,” he answered, feeling a little gauche in his one and only suit. Thank goodness he'd worn it though. It might not fit quite so well across the shoulders as Lancelot's, or match the quality of Arthur's, but he wouldn't feel too out of place in the citadel. “What did you two do?” he asked, feeling he needed to keep up polite conversation. How he wished Drew would remember and he wouldn't feel this awkward.

 

“We didn't get up till lunch time,” Drew admitted sheepishly. “I'm afraid we tied one on last night, but once we got over our hangovers, we hit the gym. Didn't do much afterwards but catch up on some old haunts... not, I might add, visiting any boozers. Benedict Penderel tends to frown on drinking too much.”

 

“Boy, does he ever,” Arthur said, coming back into the room, a red silk tie in his hand. “I can tell you I'd have spent weeks in the stocks for coming home three sheets to the wind when I was a teenager... if we still had them these days that is. Here, try that.” He changed the subject by handing over the tie.

 

After a few moments, when Drew remembered how to tie a tie and with Arthur giving it the final tweak, the three men were ready to leave.

 

Arthur drove north through the city to Cyncoed Road, which took a little longer than normal on a warm Saturday evening due to traffic. Everyone was out and about enjoying the good weather. Merlin sat in the back seat, listening to Arthur and Drew's conversation with half of his brain, while the other half wondered what the night would bring. Butterflies fluttered about in his stomach as he wondered whether Arthur's father, or any of their friends would have a startling revelation of their days in Camelot.

 

Thus far, Arthur, Alice and Mordred were the only people to recall their past lives, and that both puzzled and worried him. Was it simply that just those who had magic remembered, as Mordred had suggested? Yet Arthur had done so almost right away and he'd never had the slightest hint of magical ability. Perhaps the bang on the head had jolted his memory, but they could hardly go around knocking people out to test the theory.

 

The car turned into a long, tree lined road with large, Edwardian type houses hidden behind high walls. Most seemed to be set in fairly extensive gardens, yet they weren't quite what Merlin had expected. And when Arthur, finally, manoeuvred the car between two impressive gate-posts and the house, which was jokingly known as the citadel, came into view at the head of the drive, Merlin experienced a twinge of disappointment.

 

The car halted and the three men got out, each surveying the façade with different emotions: Arthur with familiarity, Drew with a fondness strengthened by a long absence and Merlin slightly taken aback.

 

A hand landed on Rhys's shoulder, startling him and Arthur leaned closer. “What's wrong, Rhys? Not quite the palatial home you were expecting?”

 

“No... no... it's very... nice,” Rhys stuttered, not wanting to offend as it was clear from Arthur's gaze that he cared for his childhood home.

 

“Nice?” Arthur sounded incredulous. “You thought it would be bigger, didn't you?”

 

Rhys gazed up at the house with its weathered rose brick walls and tall, leaded windows, deciding it had a great deal of charm. “It's lovely really and it has lots of character,” he finally suggested. “But I suppose I did think Uther would live in something grander.” Merlin froze as he realised he'd miscalled Benedict in public, yet Drew had moved ahead of them and hadn't overheard, thankfully.

 

“This is the house my great-grandfather built in the nineteen-twenties. It was the Penderels' first real home,” Arthur explained, and Merlin could hear the same pride in his voice as when he had spoken of Camelot Castle. “No one in the family has ever thought to sell it and move somewhere more modern. But if you're unimpressed, we also have a town-house in London, apartments in Paris and New York and a villa in Tuscany... not to mention the yacht moored in Monte-Carlo.”

 

“And don't forget the private plane,” Rhys replied cheekily. “Wow, when do you ever get to live in them all?”

 

“We manage,” Arthur smirked, but his conversation was cut off by the arrival of a slim, graceful women of middle years who came out into the garden.

 

“Drew, my dear. How good it is to see you again,” she called in a gentle voice and proceeded to show her happiness by wrapping the young man in a hug. She stood back and looked him up and down. “And you're just as handsome as ever. Are you wowing all the young women in Grand Cayman, or have you found yourself a girlfriend?”

 

“Not yet, Mrs Penderel.” Drew smiled down on the diminutive lady. “But I'm working on it.”

 

“Drew! Since when did I become Mrs Penderel to you?” she said, playfully hitting his arm. “I was Aunt Ygraine before you left and that's what I'll always be to you, so don't forget it.”

 

Drew grinned and stood back as she passed him to address her son. “Arthur, I don't believe I've met your new friend, but I've heard quite a lot about him from your father.”

 

“Mother, I'd like you to meet Rhys Wilson.” Arthur performed the introductions. “I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot more of him in the near future, since we're working closely together. Rhys, my mother, Ygraine Penderel.”

 

As Arthur's mother stretched out her hand, Rhys took it in his own, amazed at the smooth alabaster of her skin. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Penderel.” He would have recognised Ygraine anywhere: her silver blonde hair which was tied at the top of her head and allowed to fall down to her shoulders, her fine-boned face and kind eyes, her generous mouth which seemed ready to turn up in a smile at every opportunity. She was just as Merlin remembered her. But, suddenly, he realised he was staring at her, holding her hand for just a few seconds too long and he added, smiling himself, “It was very kind of you to invite me to your home.”

 

“Nonsense. Any friends of Arthur are welcome here, and I do believe you're a very special friend.” Ygraine surprised him by patting his hand before letting it go. “Now, let's not stand out here any longer. The evening's getting a little chill. Dinner will be served at eight and I'd like the chance to have a chat before we go in to eat. Arthur, escort our guests inside.”

 

Once inside, Merlin could see why the family had chosen to stay here. The wood panelled entrance hall was warm and welcoming, though the fireplace was unlit and had instead a beautiful flower arrangement sitting in the grate. Indeed, he soon found that throughout the house there were porcelain vases filled with colourful flowers. Delicate roses and blowsy peonies mixed with tall irises and delphiniums gave the rooms the appearance of an indoor garden. He had no idea why, but he was sure that Ygraine was responsible for the floral art.

 

They walked into the lounge where Benedict Penderel waited, standing before a white carved mantelpiece, dressed in an evening suit complimented by a crisp white shirt and bow-tie. He smiled grandly as he spoke. “Good evening, gentlemen. I trust you are well. Can I get you something to drink before our dinner... an aperitif?”

 

“Thanks, Dad, but I'd prefer a small beer, if you have it and I'm sure Drew and Rhys would like the same,” Arthur said, taking a seat by the window as both his friends nodded in agreement.

 

“Beer?” Benedict shook his head in mild disapproval. “I swear the young have no style. Whatever happened to a Martini?”

 

“What? Vodka Martini? Shaken not stirred? Dad, you are so James Bond.”

 

At the small altercation, Ygraine immediately stepped into the breach with consummate ease, proving she was fairly used to smoothing troubled waters between father and son. “I'd love one of your Martinis. Let the boys alone, Benedict. We're clearly old fogies.”

 

“Don't worry,” Arthur gave in with a smile. “I won't disappoint when you offer me a glass of your Armagnac after dinner.”

 

“Don't be so cheeky, young man,” Benedict countered, laughing. “Who says I'll offer such a philistine as yourself a drink of my favourite tipple? Now, please don't ignore our guests and offer them a seat.”

 

“You heard him, guys. Make yourself at home,” Arthur said, patting the leather of the sofa, polished by long years of use, while looking directly at Rhys.

 

Drew took a seat by a dark wood side table which looked like it had been designed by Rennie MacIntosh, while Benedict handed out the drinks. Merlin had to suppress a surreal urge to get up and serve his betters.

 

Just as they settled down to enjoy their drinks, the doorbell rang again and Arthur immediately jumped up. “That's probably Gwen. I'll go let her in.” He was off before anyone could stall him.

 

Merlin's eyes narrowed as he watched Ygraine's gaze follow her son, another of her tender smiles gracing her expression. Clearly, Rhys wasn't the only one rooting for Arthur and Gwen finding each other, which led him to the question of whether Ygraine simply wanted happiness for Arthur, or did she know of their shared past? He had no facts to back his supposition; it was just a feeling he had in his bones. But that was a crazy idea. Ygraine had been dead long before Arthur had made Guinevere his queen.

 

But Rhys had no more time to ponder as Arthur returned with Gwen, who was looking particularly lovely. Her hair was swept up into a diamanté clasp in the shape of a spray of flowers, yet her curls escaped, as always, in tendrils about her face. The pale green silk of her dress suited her complexion, highlighting the depths of her brown eyes and clinging to her figure before flaring out below the waist to skim her knees. Cream stiletto sandals and a matching clutch bag completed her outfit. Having been invited to the citadel on numerous occasions, Gwen had known to dress for dinner.

 

“Gwen, you look lovely,” Ygraine said, crossing to the younger woman's side. “Don't you think so, Arthur?” She looked pointedly at her son, before drawing Gwen into the centre of the room.

 

Being the focus of everyone's gaze, Arthur felt himself blushing, though he managed to speak fairly normally. “Gwen always looks good to me.” He let his eyes rest on her for a second or too, before clearing his throat to ask. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

“Just a soda water and lime, please,” Gwen answered, trying desperately not to flush either. “I'm driving.”

 

“Nonsense! This is a celebration, though it seems the guest of honour is missing.” Benedict's last statement was uttered with a touch of irritation. “But we do have one prodigal son returning, at least. Gwen, you have to toast Drew's return... and I won't take no for an answer. I'll have you all driven home in the limousine, and your cars can be returned tomorrow.” The patriarch gazed round the room, almost pleading for acceptance. Underneath Benedict's hearty exterior, it was noticeable that he was hurt by Anna's absence.

 

Always attentive to other people's feelings, Gwen allowed herself to be persuaded. She smiled at Benedict, trying to lighten the mood. “Then I'll have a glass of white wine, thank you.”

 

As her husband turned to pour Gwen's drink, Ygraine squeezed her young friend's hand in gratitude. She'd planned this evening to be a happy family reunion. Instead, Anna had called Benedict on Friday to say she wouldn't be home. If Ygraine had been disappointed by the news, she'd also been troubled, knowing that the call between father and daughter had most probably been short and very strained. Anna could be reckless and just as stubborn as Benedict, but she wasn't heartless and she must have known that her parents were looking forward to seeing her again after almost a year's absence.

 

They were disappointed. Benedict most of all. From the day they'd brought the beautiful little girl into their home, she'd won his heart. Benedict loved and was proud of Arthur, though he chose to hide it for the most part... but Anna was his joy.

 

Once Gwen's wine had been delivered to her hand, Benedict surveyed the rest of the occupants of the room, lifting his glass and saying, somewhat petulantly, “To absent friends.” There could be no doubt by the sad, faraway look in his eyes who he meant.

 

The rest of the company echoed his toast and all but Merlin and Arthur referred to the same person. Only they included others in the toast. Arthur's thoughts strayed to the whereabouts of Leon, Percival and Gwaine. He already knew Gwen's brother, who in this era was called Ely and who was backpacking his way around the world as they spoke. Would the other knights return as well? Not everything was the same in the present day. His mother was alive and her brothers had swapped destinies; Tristan was living and flourishing while Agravaine, or his equivalent, had died. Which had to mean there were no guarantees.

 

But Merlin was considering the rebirth of the people he had loved. Would he find Gaius, or Hunith... and most of all, would Freya come back to him?

 

Meanwhile, Benedict continued talking of Anna, like a man unable to stop aggravating a toothache. “Do any of you know why she can't be here, or where she is? All I deduced from our phone call was that she had an important appointment to keep.”

 

Ygraine moved to her husband and placed her hand soothingly on his arm. “My dear, you mustn't worry. You know Anna. She's probably caught the scent of a world-breaking story and is off chasing down a lead. As usual, she'll return triumphant when she's done and with another potential award in her future... and you'll be proud as punch.”

 

The rest of the group exchanged troubled glances, particularly Arthur and Gwen. After a second, Arthur asked his parents, “You haven't spoken to Anna since Friday morning?”

 

“No. She only sent me a text this morning, apologising and saying she'd get back as soon as she could,” Ygraine replied, her hand tightening on her husband's forearm the only sign that she wasn't as sanguine as she pretended. “Have any of you spoken with her?” she asked in general, though it was clear her question was directed at Arthur and Gwen.

 

“I haven't been able to reach her... though it's not for want of trying.” Arthur answered slowly, sending another glance in Gwen's direction which seemed to suggest she should speak up, but that he'd be willing to back her if she chose otherwise.

 

“We had a chat on Skype a couple of days ago,” Gwen said, then gave herself a moment by taking a sip of her wine. “She was fine and very excited about seeing everyone.”

 

“Well, that's good. Was she intending to fly back?” Ygraine asked, her mind covering every angle. “Perhaps she saw something at the airport that she just had to investigate. Remember how she got on the trail of that trafficking ring just by talking to a young girl at the terminal in Bucharest.”

 

Gwen shook her head, though a tiny smile curved her lips at the thought of Anna's many quests to defeat evil. “Anna was intending to use the Eurostar, then picking up a car in London and driving to Cardiff. She didn't even mention work, Ygraine. As far as I could tell, she was looking forward to having some time off at home.”

 

“Are you sure there wasn't a job in the pipeline?” Arthur asked, going over the same ground he'd covered yesterday. He was still very perplexed about Anna's actions. If he was the only one to be let down, he would understand. He would rib her about it, they'd argue for a bit and then forget it. But it wasn't like her to disappoint Mum and Dad this way. “Maybe something she just couldn't afford to let pass? You know how competitive the news world is. She keeps reminding me that she's only as good as her last story.”

 

“I'm sure, Arthur. We didn't really discuss her work at all... except she did ask about what was happening on Easdale. She told me she'd heard rumours through the media grapevine that Camelot was to blame. Though when I told her you were looking into it with the help of a new geologist, she seemed satisfied. She did ask about the 'new guy' and I told her he was called Rhys Wilson and she'd most likely meet him at dinner. We talked a little more, then said goodnight.”

 

“Was she going out anywhere afterwards?” Benedict entered the conversation, a tiny amount of anxiety beginning to creep into his voice.

 

“She didn't say... but it sounded like she was going to bed.” Gwen toyed with the idea of telling them about Anna's friend, but something kept her silent. “It was quite late and Paris is an hour ahead of us.”

 

“But you have talked to her since, Gwen?” Benedict asked. “I'm sorry to interrogate you, but this truly isn't like Anna. No matter how impulsive she is, she usually calls her mother sometime during the weekend when she's abroad... and she doesn't always remember that she's in a totally different time zone.”

 

“Oh, Benedict, as if we cared for that,” Ygraine cut in with a smile as she explained to the others. “It's not the first time we've been wakened in the middle of the night. Benedict might pretend to be annoyed, but he's actually happy to hear from her.” Ygraine's smile faded. “She never just sends me a text.”

 

“We did exchange texts on Friday too,” Gwen added, hoping to dispel Ygraine's worries, though she had little to tell them. “But it was a very short conversation, and I've already told Arthur all that I know. She messaged me to say she wouldn't be home because she was meeting someone in Paris.”

 

“All this for another of her boyfriends?” Benedict's anxiety changed to indignation. “But why all the secrecy? Normal she trails these poor dolts home with her. I wouldn't mind if she found someone more worthy of her, but she has a habit of collecting waifs and strays.”

 

“Perhaps the... person couldn't get away,” Rhys offered and cleared his throat when every eye turned on him. “They might be working,” he ended lamely.

 

Once again, Benedict faced Gwen, his stare penetrating. “Did she tell you who this... person was,” he asked sharply. “Does this person have a name?”

 

Arthur was suddenly at Gwen's side as she appeared to wilt a little under his father's gaze. “Dad, don't take it out on Gwen. She's only the messenger,” he warned, his eyes glinting dangerously at his father. “As far as Gwen knows, Anna's new friend is a woman and she did mention bringing her home to meet us, but she didn't say when. And that is all Gwen knows.”

 

Benedict appeared to flag and he offered Gwen an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. Arthur's right and I shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on you, Gwen. It's just that sometimes my daughter can be very... challenging. But you're in no way to blame. Forgive me?” he asked the young woman standing at Arthur's side. “I was acting abominably.”

 

Watching from the sidelines, Rhys's eyebrows rose. He was fairly certain he'd never heard Uther apologise for anything, never mind stating that he'd acted badly. Rhys decided he could grow to quite like this version of The Pendragon.

 

It seemed Gwen was fond of this Uther too as she shook her head, smiling as she answered. “Apology accepted... and it's not necessary. There are times when I feel like shaking Anna too.”

 

Everyone laughed and the tension in the room eased as Ygraine noted the time. “I think we should put the question of Anna behind us for now and go into dinner.” She began shepherding her guests toward the dining room. “If I know my daughter, she'll turn up out of the blue and be quite shocked to have caused us any worries.”

 

For the moment, thoughts of Anna's whereabouts were put aside. Not forgotten. Never forgotten, yet everyone knew Anna was a resourceful young woman who'd been getting herself in and out of scrapes for a number of years. No doubt, Ygraine was right, so they allowed themselves to follow her lead and went to enjoy their meal.

 

As Rhys entered the dining room, he allowed himself to gape. If the rest of the rooms he'd seen had been opulent, they'd also been well lived in and well loved. Yet the dining room took his breath away. It wasn't large as Camelot's chambers had been, but its wooden panelling shone with a warm glow, complimenting the inglenook fireplace. Above the mantel a large painting of a castle took pride of place; a castle which to Merlin looked like the image of Camelot's citadel.

 

“I see you're admiring my painting, Rhys,” Ygraine said, coming to stand next to him. “I found it in an antique auction in Somerset and fell in love with it. There was something about the castle which called to me and I just had to have it.”

 

“Yes, she did,” Benedict agreed, laughing fondly at his wife. “It cost me an arm and a leg and it's not even signed, so we can't trace the artist. I have to admit I've grown quite fond of the thing too,” he added as he moved to take his place at the head of the table.

 

“ _Merlin! That's Camelot. I never realised before, but now I'd recognise it anywhere.”_ Arthur's awed voice rang in Merlin's mind. _“Did you cast a spell on me?”_

 

“ _Of course not.”_ Merlin sent him a disgruntled look, then schooled his expression in case someone was watching. _“I didn't have to enchant you when you came out of that water. You're recalling all these things on your own, so don't blame me.”_

 

Aloud, Rhys smiled at Arthur's mother. “I can see why you love it. It's beautiful. I'd want it too, if I could afford it. The castle has a... magical quality.”

 

“ _What are you doing?”_ Even telepathically, Arthur's voice could rise to the higher octaves.

 

Unaware of the conversation taking place between his son and his new friend, Benedict waved his hand to the table. “Come and join me. Gwen, please, come sit by me and give me a chance to make up for my rude behaviour of earlier.” He pointed to the chair on his left side, and as Gwen did as she was bid, Benedict touched her hand lightly to apologise in deed as well as speech.

 

Yes, Merlin thought, still standing looking slightly lost, this Uther certainly had a soft spot for Gwen, especially when he saw Arthur sit automatically on his father's right hand, directly opposite the young lady in question. Ygraine's voice cut into his musings.

 

“Rhys, why don't you sit by me?” The lady of the castle directed Rhys to her right side, so he was sitting next to Gwen, before patting the place on her left. “And Drew, you must sit here so you can tell me all about your life in The Caribbean. Benedict, we must make a point to visit Drew at home.”

 

While everyone moved to take their seats, Merlin realised that he would always imagine Ygraine as The Lady of Camelot. There was something about her which he couldn't quite put his finger on... It was almost as if she knew...

 

“ _Merlin, stop staring. I know she's very lovely... but she's a happily married woman. Not to mention she's my mother and far too old for you.”_

 

Merlin felt Arthur's mental shudder reverberate through his own mind and he sent back telepathically.  _“Don't be so ridiculous. I agree she's a very gracious lady, but that's not what's attracting me. Arthur, does your mother have magic?”_

 

At that shocking question, the pristine table linen with its gleaming cutlery caught Arthur's immediate attention. He fingered the silverware uneasily while his pale skin turned faintly pink. As Gwen was sitting directly opposite him, she couldn't help but notice and wonder if he was feeling uncomfortable due to her close proximity. She was totally wrong, but her shoulders' slumped visibly.

 

“ _You fool! Are you trying to throw Gwen directly into Lance's arms?”_ Merlin missed nothing when it came to his friend's love life... or lack there off, which was a certain bet if Arthur kept slighting Gwen even if only by accident. _“Gwen thinks you can't look at her.”_

 

“ _Then don't ask me crazy questions.”_ Arthur fired back quickly. _“How should I know if my mother has magic? Until I met you I thought the only magicians around were people like Derren Brown.”_

 

However, he raised his eyes quickly, in time to catch the fleeting look of hurt which shadowed Gwen's eyes. Without thinking, he smiled, a smile of warmth and admiration... with a flash of desire which she hadn't seen since their early days in university. Not since they'd had that idiotic conversation about just being good friends.

 

Neither Gwen nor Arthur had wanted to disappoint their families' expectations, if for very different reasons. Gwen's dad had worked so hard to put both his children through college, but her brother Ely had gone off to do charity work in Eastern Europe when he turned eighteen, leaving all Tom Armour's hopes focused fully on his daughter. Gwen hadn't minded too much, but it did put extra pressure on her shoulders to do as well as she possibly could and make her father proud.

 

Though money hadn't been a feature in Arthur's case (he'd always had the best of education) he too was expected to not only do well, but to achieve a first-class honours degree... and nothing less would be good enough to please Benedict Penderel.

 

Arthur and Gwen both had the brains and the determination to achieve what their fathers desired, but they knew it wouldn't be easy. It would take hard graft, all their concentration and long hours spent studying, which meant they didn't have time to fall in love. However, both had felt they needed a friend. Someone who had similar goals. Someone who would encourage them through the hard times, who would commiserate with them when they failed... though failure wasn't really an option and who would share their elation and celebrate their successes.

 

At first, they'd felt a little awkward trying to deny the attraction they'd felt for each other but they'd buried these feelings and became best friends. Within no time, they'd slipped into that relationship like slipping into a pair of favourite shoes, the kind that are so comfortable you don't ever want to part with them.

 

Their days at university might be behind them, but their friendship and trust endured. The pity of it was that those deeper emotions had never truly gone away, but had remained buried beneath the busy lives they led, and neither one was brave enough to admit the truth in case they embarrassed the other, or were hurt by rejection.

 

Until now. That look might have been fleeting, but Gwen recognised how Arthur's clear blue eyes had deepened with passion just as they had for her long ago. During the years in between, she'd never noticed it appear for any of the women he'd dated. Perhaps he'd felt a passing physical attraction for some of his girlfriends but Gwen had known none of them would ever be Mrs Penderel.

 

Meanwhile, the real Mrs Penderel was talking and Gwen shook herself out of her thoughts to listen to the conversation. Besides, was it really her place to do anything about Arthur? Perhaps she'd mistaken his glance...

 

“What do you think, Gwen?” Ygraine addressed her in person, and she realised she'd missed the question. She could only gaze blankly at her hostess. “Don't you think a trip to Grand Caymen to visit Drew would be fun? Just because our men are too busy to join us, that doesn't mean we should forgo our enjoyment. I think we should go straight on to The Caribbean after our visit to Tristan.”

 

Gwen didn't know what to say. She couldn't deny she felt very attracted to Drew. Would she be foolish to deny herself a chance of happiness on the faint prospect that Arthur would eventually admit he was in love with her? Hadn't he had years to do just that? Putting aside her forlorn hope, Gwen forced a smile to her lips. “I think that would be an excellent idea. Provided Arthur can do without me.”

 

“Gwen, I'm not sure...” Arthur blanched, his skin almost matching the colour of his hair. Clearly, he hadn't considered that Gwen would wish to leave him for Drew. Yet, she wasn't leaving for good. Why then was he afraid that if Gwen went to Grand Caymen she might never return?

 

“Arthur! Don't be so mean.” His mother admonished him, though her voice was soft with understanding. “I'm sure you can spare her for a short while. Gwen works so hard for you that a little holiday would do her the world of good.”

 

“ _And would do you a lot of good too. Perhaps some competition might stop you dilly-dallying and force you to tell Gwen you love her,”_ Ygraine said telepathically, another angelic smile lighting up her face, while at either end of the table, two young men's eyes almost startled out of their heads. _“Don't look so shocked. I too can speak to your minds. We don't have time for complicated explanations but I will explain later.”_

 

Returning to normal speech, Ygraine repeated her question... though it was more a statement of fact. “So, Gwen can accompany me to Drew's home... can't she, Arthur?”

 

“Yes.” Arthur's answer was almost a squeak. He cleared his throat and began again. “I suppose. Gwen doesn't need my permission. If she wants to and Drew doesn't mind...” Suddenly, Arthur had a flash of inspiration. “And provided Drew is there. He might still be in the UK helping me out.”

 

At that, his father's stare swung sharply towards him. “Just how long is it going to take to find what's causing this problem? It's weeks before our trip to New York. Surely that's more than enough time to fix this mess.” Benedict set his cutlery down and his gaze shifted with annoyance between Arthur and Rhys. “I'm sorry, but our investors are already demanding answers. We employ the best people, Arthur, or I think you do, at least. I expect them to live up to expectations and the generous remuneration we pay them.”

 

Rhys interjected before Arthur could answer. “I'm afraid, Mr Penderel, that geophysics isn't an exact science yet. We've learned quite a lot about what makes up our planet, yet there are areas which are still obscure. I'm sorry we can't give you reasons as quickly as you'd like, but we're making progress... and I think it's fairly safe to say that your shale-gas plant isn't responsible for what's happening on Easdale. But we can only confirm that when we do find the true cause.”

 

“And that's why we're all heading back up to Scotland tomorrow,” Arthur added quickly. “We're going to dive those waters to see what we can find, which is why I need Drew's help.”

 

“Then I can expect an answer in the next few days?” Benedict questioned again, unwilling to let go of the predicament. “Arthur, you do understand that our competitors and the press are also snapping at our heels? If we can't clear our name, this scandal could ruin Camelot Industries' reputation... a reputation which your grandfather and his father before him worked very hard to earn. I will not see Camelot brought down on my watch.”

 

“Benedict, my dear, calm yourself,” Ygraine said with quiet authority. “Surely you're exaggerating. I'm sure Camelot's standing is far greater than the fate of one fracking plant. If the worst comes to the worst, the operation can be shut down, the company apologises and makes reparation to anyone who has been adversely affected...”

 

“That's just it, Mum. The turbulent waters are fairly spectacular at times and they are contaminated, but so far no one has been seriously injured. There's a lot of scaremongering going on by the media and the conspiracy theorists suggesting this is an early warning sign of an earthquake or some sort of volcanic activity, but Mer...” Arthur coughed to cover his slip. “But Rhys doesn't seem to think so.”

 

“If either of those disasters occurred, I'd be very surprised, which is why we really need to take another look at Easdale and the surrounding district,” Rhys said, throwing Arthur a warning look.

 

Ygraine laid her hand on top of Merlin's. “I totally agree. And you'll make a start on that tomorrow. But at present, this is my dinner party and I won't have it spoiled by anymore talk of work.” She let her glance drift around the table, her blue eyes -- very much the colour of Arthur's -- coming to rest on her son and husband. “Now I want both of you to make peace. I'm sure Arthur is just as keen as you are, Benedict, to get to the bottom of the problem... and he's never let you down before.” Ygraine's voice had an edge to it as she defended her son. “Anna might not be here, but everyone else I care about is, so let's enjoy each other's company and not spoil George's wonderful meal either.”

 

The rest of the meal passed off in a reasonable state of friendliness with Ygraine leading the conversation into more general and comfortable topics. She coaxed Drew to talk about his life in The Caribbean and asked Gwen how her brother was faring as part of a charity organization building wells in one of the troubled African countries. Needless to say, while both Merlin and Arthur seemed to listen intently and actually made a few comments here and there, both young men were a little shell-shocked by the 'bomb' Ygraine had dropped on them. They couldn't wait to find some place private to talk to each other, but neither did they want to open up a telepathic communication for fear of her overhearing. It wasn't that they were afraid of her... Ygraine was still a very sweet lady, but she was a lady who had magic!

 

Every now and then, she'd send either her son or his friend a small, knowing smile and at one point she even chose to send them a mind message.

 

“ _I know you're both shocked, but be patient and we can talk soon... out loud, in private.”_

 

And both Arthur and Merlin had to be content with that for the rest of the evening, which was a pity because Arthur's distraction cleared the way for Drew to monopolise Gwen's attention. Sadly, as the evening wore on, Gwen began to suspect she'd only imagined the sign that Arthur's interest in her was rekindled and her hurt feelings were only too susceptible to Drew's gallantry.

 

A state of affairs that was noticed by a worried mother. She had to talk to her boy about more than just her ability to speak telepathically. After all, as Arthur was the Once and Future King it followed that Gwen was The Once and Future Queen. Just as his destiny in brotherhood lay with Merlin, so too was his love-life entwined with Gwen's. She had to find time to have a heartfelt conversation with Arthur and Merlin before they left for Scotland the next day. She was afraid time was running out... and there was the question of Anna. Ygraine couldn't dispel the feeling of anxiety caused by her daughter's absence.

 

Fortunately, Ygraine was unexpectedly aided by Gwen herself who, not too long after dinner, announced she should be going home as she still had to pack for the morrow and also make some last minute arrangements for their requirements in Scotland.

 

Benedict made to protest, but was silenced by a look from his wife. Since he too had been aware of Drew's attraction to the young woman who he'd long seen as his future daughter-in-law, his objections were mild.

 

“I'm sorry you're leaving us so soon,” he said, his eyes kindly as they rested on Gwen. “However, I understand you all have an early start tomorrow, and I also know that most of the arrangements for these trips fall on your shoulders, Gwen.” At that, he threw another disgruntled look at his son, who merely shrugged.

 

Arthur wasn't totally ignorant of losing ground to Drew, but he felt he could remedy the situation while they were away. Tonight, he'd made the decision to fight for Gwen's love. He could only hope that he hadn't left it too late. Meanwhile, he and Merlin needed to confront his mother to find out how much magic she had.

 

 

******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank those of you who are still reading this story and letting me know. It does my confidence good to realise there are still readers out there who are interested in reading more about the characters from the tv show. I hope you approve of what I'm doing with them.


	12. A Mother's Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For readers who like Ygraine, I hope you'll enjoy a chapter which focusses on her and her relationship with Arthur. Of course, Merlin is there to help, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a day late, but I completely forgot it was time to post last night. Forgive me!

Chapter Twelve

 

 

A Mother's Confession

 

 

As the little soiree was winding down, Benedict went to call one of his drivers to take Gwen home, but the thoughtful young woman wouldn't hear of disturbing the chauffeur who was most likely enjoying a Saturday evening at home with his family. Instead, she insisted on calling a taxi. Drew announced that he too was feeling tired, since he'd only been in the country for just over a day and his body was still locked in a different time zone. He'd suggested sharing Gwen's cab, seeing her home safely before continuing on to the apartment.

 

This arrangement didn't please Arthur at all, but he'd sound churlish to protest for no sensible reason. Besides, he had to talk to his mother, and Merlin wanted that too, judging from his body language. Just how much damage could Drew do to his cause to win Gwen in one short taxi ride?

 

Perhaps Arthur would have felt a little better if he'd known that Gwen wasn't exactly happy with the idea of sharing a cab either. It wasn't that she disliked Drew. Quite the opposite, in fact. But she was still smarting from Arthur practically ignoring her after that one blazing look of passion. Was he regretting letting his feelings show... if only for a very brief moment? And Gwen was a thoughtful, caring girl. Did she have the right to lead on a very kind and attractive man like Drew when she wasn't sure of her own feelings?

 

Since Camelot Industries had a contract with Cardiff City Cabs, it wasn't long before one of their vehicles was drawing up in front of the mansion and the Penderel family, along with Rhys, were wishing Gwen and Drew goodnight. They stood outside in the cooling night air under the stars while different problems drifted through each of their minds. The main one for Ygraine was how to find some privacy for the two boys and herself without alerting Benedict to the fact that something might be wrong. Indeed, what she had to explain wasn't exactly wrong, but it was surreal and she knew she'd already shocked her son beyond words. Merlin might be more understanding, she felt.

 

As it was, Benedict himself solved her dilemma. When they went back indoors he abruptly declared, “At the risk of seeming ill-mannered, I'm afraid I'm going to excuse myself for the rest of the evening. As I said, our American investors are growing increasingly anxious with this situation and I'd like to let them know we're actually taking steps to solve the problem. I'll try to place a conference call to a few of my closest colleagues to calm their nerves. After all, it's only five in the evening in Chicago. I'm sure I'll catch Olaf and perhaps Simon in LA. I'll feel better after talking with them, but I'll probably go straight up to bed. I do feel a little tired this evening... not that it's the fault of anyone here.”

 

“Dad, while you're talking with Olaf and Simon could you ask them if they've heard of any fracking sites having similar problems to Easdale?” Arthur asked, still searching for answers. “We'd be interested to know if ours is unique. Even if there's been a cover up, those two usually know what's going on.”

 

Benedict kissed his wife's cheek before turning to the two young men. “Indeed they do and their answers might prove interesting. Now, I know it's not late according to your normal customs, Arthur, but keep in mind you've a heavy task ahead of you.” The CEO of Camelot Industries then turned to Rhys. “It was nice to meet you in less formal circumstances, Rhys, but I'm relying on you to help Arthur.”

 

He offered Rhys his hand to shake, which Merlin quickly took. “Don't worry, Mr Penderel, that's exactly what I intend doing. I won't let either of you down.” As Merlin spoke, he looked directly into Benedict's eyes, deciding they were neither as cold nor harsh as those of Uther.

 

“Good. Good. That's what I like to hear.” Yet Benedict's brows drew together in a questioning frown. “Have we met before? I know we met in the office, but I mean before that. For a moment there, I thought you familiar.”

 

“No. I'm sure we haven't,” Rhys replied quickly, trying to keep calm, when suddenly an idea struck. “Though you did come to my university once to give a talk on the future of renewable energy. I was a big fan, so I was there... almost in the front row. It was a few years back and we were never introduced, but perhaps you spotted me hanging on your every word. Excellent talk, it was.”

 

The look Benedict was giving him was very similar to a time in Camelot when he'd tried to cover for Arthur's absence. Merlin was on the verge of squirming when Benedict gave a short laugh. “That's probably it then. I'm glad you were impressed. Those lectures were fairly successful, I do believe. But I must go. A CEO's work is never done. Goodnight all.”

 

And with those final words, Benedict strode off towards his study while his wife beckoned her son and his friend to follow her down the corridor and into the large kitchen which was now clean and tidy... and, more importantly, empty.

 

“I gave George instructions to let the catering staff go home the minute they'd cleared away,” Ygraine explained, looking around her kitchen and checking the utility room also. “I told him he wouldn't be needed either till tomorrow morning. He's probably gone home too. Though I do trust George, what I have to say shouldn't be overheard by anyone.”

 

“What about Mr Penderel?” Merlin asked.

 

Arthur laughed heartily. “My father in the kitchen? He probably doesn't even know how to find the place.”

 

“Arthur, don't mock your father that way, though I'm sorry to say you're right.” Ygraine bent confidingly to the thin, dark haired man who was inspecting the large kitchen. “I don't really know my way around the kitchen either, though I'm rather the expert at filling up and emptying the dishwasher.” Her silvery laugh seemed to fill the air with light. “It was the only job Drew's mother would allow me to tackle. I've never been a very good cook, though I can manage to use the toaster without burning the bread... and I can make tea. Would you like a cup of herbal tea, Rhys? It's a very soothing blend. I buy it online from a firm in Scotland. Actually where you're heading tomorrow.” Ygraine picked up the box containing the tea bags and read the inscription. “Island Herbal Teas... based in Easdale. I never made the connection before, but then I'd never heard of the place until your father mentioned it was where you fell into the water, Arthur.”

 

Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “As it happens, we know the lady who makes that tea -- Fiona MacDougall, or Alice as she was in the days of old Camelot,” he explained, puzzling over the coincidence. Just how many degrees of separation where there? He would certainly visit the old lady again to discover if this link between her and Arthur's mother was purely by chance. “We met her on the island when she took Arthur in after he'd gone for that involuntary dip in the quarry. I went back to talk to her later and she's one of the few people who remember their past lives.”

 

“Wait, I remember an Alice. Wasn't she Gaius's partner?” Ygraine turned her back on the two men as she switched on the kettle and warmed the tea pot before making the tea. “What ever happened to her? I hope she escaped Uther's purge. She was a sweet lady.”

 

“She did. Gaius helped her flee,” Merlin said, walking to the large breakfast bar and perching on a stool. “But she did come back and she was almost executed for trying to kill The King, but once again she vanished, probably with Gaius's help.”

 

“I'm glad. She was never a bad person, but I suspect many sorcerers weren't evil to begin with,” she said pensively, glancing over her shoulder as she placed the mugs, teapot and sugar bowl on a tray. “Uther never understood that when you prosecute people for being who they are many of them are bound to turn against you in hatred.”

 

“Good God, Mother, how can you calmly make tea while telling us you remember your past life... and you obviously know everything that happened after you died?” Arthur asked, feeling adrift in a world he could no longer fathom. Tentatively, he walked closer to Ygraine. “Did you have magic too?”

 

While the fast-boiling kettle behind her wreathed Ygraine in a halo of steam, she gave another gentle laugh. “Oh, my dear boy, of course I don't have magic and I don't know everything that happened in Camelot after my death.”

 

“What then? I don't understand.” Arthur folded his arms across his chest, in an effort to keep his hands from shaking. “Did you know before you died... about the deal Uther had struck with Nimueh?” Time seemed to stand still as he awaited his mother's answer, while sadness and remembered pain clouded his luminous gaze.

 

“No. I knew nothing of that... but even if I had, I wouldn't have changed a single thing.” Forgetting about her tea-making, Ygraine crossed to her son's side, raising her hand to smooth the frown from his brow. “I loved you from the moment I knew of your conception and I gave my life gladly knowing that you would live. I never regretted a moment of my first life, though I'm extremely grateful that I've lived to share this one with you. I'm so proud of you, both now and then.”

 

The boiling kettle attracted her attention once more, and wiping a tear from her lashes, she turned back to her task.

 

“And that's it, Mum? Is that all you're going to tell us?” Arthur's voice was clipped, though his eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, belied his tone.

 

She quickly sent him an apologetic glance. “No. But be patient, please. I think I need a moment to compose my thoughts. I've much to tell you. Both of you.”

 

“Let her be, Arthur,” Merlin cautioned, leaning toward his friend. “I think your mother might be able to help us, but all this must be difficult for her.”

 

Arthur nodded, climbing up onto another stool and leaning his head on his folded arms. His mother's confession had shaken him to the core, but he knew Merlin was right. Many centuries ago, his mother had been a victim of dark magic and he sincerely hoped she wouldn't be again. He'd do his utmost to ensure her safety... but thankfully, not from his father this time.

 

It seemed to take forever, but was probably only a few minutes before Ygraine brought the tray to the breakfast bar, and sitting herself, she poured three mugs of tea. “I've brought sugar, but I think you'll find the tea is best without it, Rhys. Arthur isn't a fan of herbal tea and douses it with far too much sugar. You'll get fat, my boy, if you're not careful.”

 

The latter statement prompted a bark of laughter from Rhys as he watched Arthur put two heaped teaspoonfuls of sugar into the mug and stir vigorously, saying defensibly. “I'm not fat and since I hardly drink the stuff my sugar levels won't increase dramatically.” He took a sip to judge the taste before looking up to see both his mother and Merlin staring at him, he shrugged. “OK. I'll spend an extra few hours in the gym. Now, if we've finished discussing my body, perhaps you could explain how you don't have magic but can speak telepathically.” Arthur's words might be somewhat impatient, but his tone of voice was gentle, revealing the depth of his emotions.

 

Merlin interrupted, seeing Ygraine was still struggling with her thoughts. “You can use mind talk, Arthur, but you don't have magic.”

 

Arthur sent Merlin an ambivalent look. “That's true. But why is that? Both mother and I have been touched by magic, but we don't actually have magic ourselves?”

 

“I'd say that's the uncomplicated answer, but probably true,” Merlin replied thoughtfully. “Though I think your mother knows a little more.”

 

Stretching out his hand, Arthur stilled his mother's fingers which were trembling on the counter top. “Mum, I'd really like to know, but if you're not ready to tell us what happened to you, we can do this another time. I don't want to hurt you more than I did back in Camelot.”

 

Ygraine's head came up and she stared directly at Arthur, her tears now spilling down her cheeks. “You never hurt me.”

 

“You died giving birth to me. I'd call that hurting you big time.”

 

“No. You weren't responsible... and before you make any accusations, neither was your father. Not really. It never occurred to him that my life would be taken.” Ygraine smiled through her tears. “Perhaps that was naïve and probably more than a little arrogant, but he was heartbroken when I died. Uther never blamed you and he did love you.”

 

“But how do you know all this stuff, Mum? You were already dead.”

 

For once, Ygraine looked all of her fifty odd years. “I was granted a gift from beyond the veil.” She laced her slim fingers with her son's, seeking some of his strength. She knew her revelations defied reality. “The White Goddess took pity on me. She couldn't repeal the deal Nimueh had struck with your father, but to thank me for giving birth to the Once and Future King, occasionally she allowed me to look upon you in the world of men. To see for myself what kind of man you'd grown into. Believe me,” And here Ygraine smiled wistfully, “there were times I wanted to box your ears. Yet, for all that, you grew into a young man I was proud to own as my son.”

 

She fell silent again, gazing at Arthur's face, but whether she was seeing him as he was now or in the past, neither man could tell.

 

Abruptly, Arthur sat up straighter, though he retained his hold of Ygraine's hand. “Mother, that time long ago when we visited Morgause's castle, was that really you who I spoke with, or some creation of Morgause?”

 

“That was me.” A shudder coursed through Ygraine's body and Arthur rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of his mother's hand. “It was so amazing to be able to see you in person... to actually touch you. I'd never believed how wonderful it would feel to hold you and speak with you.” Ygraine fell silent, but both men waited for her to continue, realising there was more she had to tell them. “Yet it was a poisoned chalice, for Morgause twisted what I wanted to say to you. She snatched me away before I had the chance to explain that your father was almost as much a victim of dark magic as I had been.”

 

“Uther was a victim?” Arthur asked sceptically. “I find that hard to believe.”

 

“Yes, Arthur. In the beginning. He needed an heir and Nimueh was a friend to Camelot. He asked for her help and she gave it. Uther never suspected the price he would have to pay. He wasn't always a bad man. An arrogant and proud one, perhaps, but not the tyrant he became. Sorrow broke something inside him. He became twisted with grief and hate. Over the years, that hatred of magic corrupted him... and, sadly, he managed to instil some of that prejudice in you. It became the ruin of Camelot... the seeds of her destruction.” Ygraine's tear filled gaze turned to Merlin. “You tried so hard to change my son's destiny, Merlin, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but it was already too late. The forces of darkness were ranged against you. Firstly in Nimueh and Morgause, then in Morgana and Mordred. There was nothing you could have done.”

 

Merlin's memory drifted to that terrible day by the Lake of Avalon so long ago. Kilgarrah had spoken those same words. He'd raged against fate back then and many times since, but perhaps it was true. His reflections were broken into by the sound of Arthur's groan.

 

“Then the dark forces will always win! If Merlin can't defeat them, no one can,” Arthur stated with a mixture of anger and dejection.

 

Shaking herself from her depressive thoughts, Ygraine's shoulders straightened and her head lifted on her slender neck. “No, Arthur. That doesn't always follow and you mustn't believe it. The present doesn't always mirror the past. It's the reason the White Goddess granted me another boon... two to be exact. This time, she made sure I lived and she left me with an awareness of the true past.”

 

Across the breakfast bar, Merlin brightened immediately. “Meaning there was no reason why Benedict would become a monster... and even if he did, magic would hardly be his target since no one believes in magic these days.”

 

“That's exactly right, Rhys.” Ygraine's smile widened as she looked with satisfaction at her son's new yet old friend. “I hope I've been a gentling influence on both my husband and son...”

 

“But why haven't you told me this before?” Arthur interrupted, shaking his head in puzzlement. “You could have warned me...”

 

“I'm sorry, Arthur. I couldn't. I'd given my word to The White Goddess.” Ygraine let go of her son's hand and clasped both her own on the counter in front of her. “I think perhaps Rhys will understand this more than you, but please, Arthur, accept what I tell you because there is no right or wrong... only what is. In magic, there are always conditions which have to be obeyed. In the case of Nimueh, she demanded a life for a life so that the balance of nature would be restored.”

 

“Wasn't that true?” Arthur demanded.

 

“Yes... and no. Arthur, I'm only surmising here, because I don't have magic and it was never really explained to me. However, what I came to understand was that often the balance was restored in the normal passage of time. Children are born while others die naturally. It is the circle of life. I died because Nimueh demanded the ultimate sacrifice. Perhaps another priestess might not have...” Ygraine halted abruptly while her hands moved, as if pushing away an unwanted idea. “But I'm straying from the point. Before I was reincarnated, The White Goddess told me to watch over you, but never to tell you my story until the time was right. I asked her when that would be and she simply smiled and said I would know. Tonight when I saw you with Merlin, I understood everything. And, just so you know, I was never able to communicate telepathically until now, but it just seemed... natural. However, I can't overhear your telepathic chats, though I'm sure you have them on a fairly regular basis.” She smiled as a look of relief passed between the two young men.

 

“They do come in handy now and then, Mum,” Arthur admitted with a genuine laugh, though his expression turned more serious as he realised his mother might have a point. Once, Sir Leon had been brought back from near death by drinking from the Cup of Life and, as far as he knew, the Druids hadn't taken another life.

 

“Mrs Penderel, did The White Goddess tell you what dangers we're facing?” This time it was Merlin who interrupted Arthur's thoughts, returning the conversation back to the more urgent subject.

 

Ygraine shook her head. “I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm unaware of any facts which might help you and Arthur. I've felt there's an evil presence been reborn into the world and I'm very afraid for my daughter. I'm sure Anna has magic, but that's more a feeling than a certainty. I'm also sure she doesn't know it herself... yet.”

 

“You think Anna's the evil presence?” Arthur asked, incredulity warring with fear within him.

 

“Definitely not!” Ygraine shot him an annoyed look. “In Camelot, Morgana turned to the Old Religion because of circumstances... circumstances which haven't been repeated in this life. Anna has known only love and support from her present family and I pray that will be enough to shield her from any untoward influences.”

 

“Influences like Morgause?” Again Merlin's forethought was much quicker than Arthur's, though he did have the benefit of experience and magic.

 

But Arthur was nodding in understanding. “Then Anna's new friend could be Morgause reborn?”

 

“It's definitely a possibility,” Merlin agreed, his own hands tightening around the mug of cooling tea. He took a long sip of the liquid while he contemplated Anna's fate with growing trepidation.

 

“And this woman is the person Anna might be with now?” Ygraine's face paled at the thought of losing her daughter to dark magic and she shivered, though the kitchen retained some of its heat from earlier. “She could be trying to persuade Anna to join her, just as she did all those centuries ago. But what if Anna won't comply? She could enchant her. There are ways... terrible ways.”

 

“We know.” Remembering with horror how Morgana had once manipulated Guinevere, Arthur stood up and crossed to his mother's side, drawing her into a hug. “Don't worry, Mum. Merlin and I won't let anything bad happen to Anna this time. Even if she does have magic, she's nothing to fear from us. We'll make sure she knows we love her anyway and she doesn't have to turn to Morgause for help.”

 

“You're right, of course. Yet I fear for all of us.” The worried mother drew back to look up at her son. “The dark forces rising are powerful. Merlin will need all of his strength and all of our help to destroy them.”

 

“But we can do it, Mum... and Merlin and I believe we won't be alone either. Neither Gwen nor Drew remember yet, but we're sure they will and they'll help too... whether they remember or not. Don't give into despair, please,” he said, pulling her tight against him again, as if trying to imbue her with his courage.

 

“Mrs Penderel, I'm more powerful now than I was in the days of Camelot, plus I've a lot more experience, too. And don't forget, both Alice and Mordred have already offered their support.”

 

But the mention of Mordred had the opposite effect than what Merlin had hoped for, and he kicked himself for being so stupid. Clearly, Ygraine knew of the part Mordred had played in her son's death. Her hands gripped Arthur's arms in horror. “Mordred is back? Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“Because we haven't had the chance,” Arthur said, while telepathically he threw at Merlin. _“You idiot! Now she's terrified.”_

 

“ _I'm sorry,”_ Merlin answered Arthur before addressing Ygraine. “Mordred has total recall of his past and he's full of remorse. He only wants to help this time.”

 

“But can you trust him?” The look Ygraine turned on Arthur was full of terror. She couldn't stand aside and watch her son struck down by the same man who had killed him once before. She'd destroy Mordred herself before allowing that to happen.

 

“Mother, Merlin and I have talked about this and we think he's sincere.”

 

“Besides, I don't intend to make the same mistakes as I did in the past,” Merlin assured, his voice heavy with remembered pain. “I should've drawn Mordred closer; explained my vision to him, but instead I pushed him away.”

 

“As did I. Merlin, you weren't wholly to blame for Mordred's betrayal.”

 

“Mrs Penderel, this time Arthur and I know what not to do. Forewarned is forearmed,” Merlin added with a small smile, coming to stand closer to the pair and for a moment the tableau in the room remained frozen; three people united in a war against the forces of dark magic.

 

Finally, Ygraine shook herself and took a step back from the sheltering arms of her son, her fingers wiping away her tears. “Good. I'm very glad we've had a chance to talk... and I have every faith in you both, but there's one thing I would ask...” Her azure blue gaze slipped between Arthur and Merlin, seeking their understanding. “You must never reveal this knowledge to Benedict. As I said before, he's a good man and a good father, knowledge of his past might be too much for him to bear. Besides, I don't want to risk him becoming obsessed with things over which he has no control. As it is, I've no idea how he'll react if we lose Anna.”

 

Arthur was nodding slowly. “I agree. It's best if we keep Dad out of this.”

 

“Then that makes three of us,” Merlin stated with a definite nod of his head and offering his hand to both.

 

Ygraine and Arthur took his proffered hand -- the shape mimicking a triskelion -- and smiled to seal their pact, while out in the darkened passageway, Benedict turned deadly pale. He'd finished his call some time ago and had gone straight to bed, but he'd expected his wife to be close behind him. After all, he'd told his son not to stay too late as they had an early start for Scotland. Yet, as he undressed for bed, he decided he wasn't too upset that Arthur might still be around. In fact, it would be good to tell him that both Olaf and Simon had faith in him getting to the bottom of the problem and that, though there'd been speculation in the US about the damages of fracking, nothing had been proven. He slipped on his dressing gown and made for the kitchen where he felt sure he'd find the boys and his wife.

 

As he'd wandered down the long corridor, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his right arm. He'd felt it earlier, before dinner but the feeling had eased. Now, he flexed his arm, yet the pins and needles intensified. Feeling light-headed and almost lost in his own home, he was about to retreat when he'd been alerted he was on the correct path by the sound of voices... troubled voices. He reached the door and waited, unaware of why he did so and suddenly wishing he hadn't. What was the old wives' tale about eavesdroppers never hearing any good of themselves... yet surely no one had ever predicted what he was hearing... and what and why must he never be told?

 

About to barge into the room to demand answers, Benedict was overtaken by a sudden dizziness. He clutched weakly at the door jamb for support as his mind was assaulted by disquieting images. A severe pain, the like of which he'd never felt before, knifed into his skull and he instinctively tried to raise his right hand to his head, but his arm wouldn't do what it was told. Without knowing why, he turned away, stumbling drunkenly toward his study, fighting the fog which threatened his vision. Yet his will triumphed over his body as he managed to wrench open the door and stagger over to his favourite chair. In darkness, he collapsed into its folds. An old wolf suffering silent and alone in his den.

 

Meanwhile, Ygraine bid her son and Merlin goodnight, wishing them luck in their endeavours as they left by the back door to find a taxi waiting to take them home. Out of habit, she checked the central locking system of the house then made her way slowly upstairs. Most of the house was in darkness, though there was a light in her bedroom and she spoke up as she entered.

 

“The boys have gone. You know, Benedict, I do like Arthur's new friend. I'm sure he and Arthur will grow very close... and I don't think you need worry...” Ygraine stopped speaking as she realised she was alone in the room. Casting around her, she called out. “Benedict?”

 

She checked their dressing room and their bathroom, but both were empty. Ygraine let out another soft laugh. She knew her husband too well. When he got chatting to his best friends Olaf and Simon he totally forgot about time. No doubt they'd left the subject of work far behind them and they were reliving a spectacular game of golf at St Andrews, or arguing over who'd caught the biggest marlin when they'd gone deep sea fishing. With the trip to New York looming, they were probably arranging to meet up to create more sporting memories.

 

As she sat at her dressing table, cleansing the make-up from her face and brushing out her hair, she knew she didn't begrudge him his time with his friends. God knows, he didn't take enough time to relax, and neither of them were getting any younger. Perhaps she could persuade the two Americans to accompany them on their trip to The Caribbean, then Benedict couldn't refuse to come.

 

Her night-time toiletries complete, Ygraine slipped between the silk sheets, turning down the lights and totally unaware of her husband's desperate plight. She was upset that she hadn't talked to her son about Gwen, but there had been so much to discuss and perhaps the young couple should be left to sort out their own future. Her last thoughts before she composed herself for sleep were for her daughter, hoping that wherever Anna was she would be safe.

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! That's it for another two weeks. Hopefully, I'll be on time then. 
> 
> Again, I'd love to hear your comments on the chapter, or let me know you are reading. I've thought perhaps I'm posting this story and no one is out there. Even if there are only a couple of readers, I will continue posting, but otherwise I'm having second thoughts.


	13. Ill News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worrying news for Arthur in this chapter and we find out more about one of the shows adversaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually posting early today. Please enjoy...

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Ill News

 

 

At first light, four young people set out on their quest to discover the cause of Camelot Industries's troubles. This time they didn't ride strong, well-bred steeds but embarked instead in the sleek Lear jet.

 

The three men met up with Gwen at the airport, Arthur bleary eyed: he still wasn't a morning person; Drew stoic with a serviceman's power of endurance and Rhys, cheerier than a thousand-year-plus man had any right to be.

 

Greeting each other while drinking large amounts of black coffee, or in Rhys's case herbal tea, they watched their luggage and gear being loaded onto the plane by the ground staff. As Rhys noticed the large amount of diving equipment, he realised that Drew and Arthur couldn't have frittered away all of the previous afternoon. Obviously, they'd spent some of their time organizing all the paraphernalia they'd need to search the flooded quarries on Easdale.

 

Very soon, they were boarding the plane and finding themselves somewhere comfortable to sit, which wasn't difficult on this luxuriously fitted out plane, as Merlin had discovered from past experience. The pilot called Arthur into the cockpit to discuss some final arrangements and when he returned, he found Drew monopolising the space next to Gwen on the plush leather couch fitted along the side of the cabin. Arthur wasn't amused, yet he could hardly sulk like a child. Instead, he gave Gwen another of those smouldering smiles before sitting in the recliner chair across the aisle from Rhys and prepared for take-off.

 

The moment they were settled and the pilots had completed their checks, the jet took off to speed high above the countryside towards Glasgow airport. Soon they'd be picking up a hired car and driving to Easdale and Arthur made a decision.

 

“ _Rhys, when we get to Glasgow and get the car, will you drive to the island? After all, you know the way.”_

 

“ _And you don't?”_ Merlin could barely repress a grin. _“But if you're feeling too tired, Gwen knows the way too. Maybe she'd like to drive.”_

 

“ _OK. So you're onto me. Don't look so smug. No one likes a clever clogs! I'd like to sit next to Gwen for a change.”_ Arthur admitted, while staring at the couple on the sofa, who were chatting like old friends, Gwen laughing now and then at something Drew had said. _“You were right all along, Merlin. I can't just watch Drew make a play for her. She's my queen,”_ he added, somewhat soulfully.

 

“Gwen,” Rhys called, interrupting Drew and Gwen's conversation. “Did Fiona manage to help you find a place for us to stay?”

 

That prompted a narrow-eyed stare from Arthur. He hadn't known Rhys had made such a suggestion.

 

“Actually, she did, Rhys.” Gwen turned away from Drew. “She's a sweet old lady and she really went out of her way to arrange a house for us. Seemingly she has a friend who's visiting her family in Australia and her house has been sitting empty for quite a while. Fiona's been keeping an eye on the place and her friend agreed to her suggestion that we should occupy it for as long as we need. Of course, the fact that Arthur had told me money was no object and that he's a Penderel helped too. Seems you're quite a celebrity.” Gwen ended with a grin at Arthur.

 

“Where is this house?” Arthur asked, dismissing Gwen's latter statement with a wave of his hand but sitting up a little straighter. This was all news to him. “And is it big enough for us and all our gear?” He was imagining one of the small fishing cottages which seemed predominant on Easdale and Seil.

 

“It's a detached house in a village called Balvicar which is actually on Seil, so we don't have any long twisty roads to tackle.” Gwen rummaged in her brief case and pulled out a couple of printed sheets of paper, walking down the centre of the plane to hand them to Arthur. “Fiona sent me these photos of the house by email. They were waiting for me last night when I got home. The accommodation sounds more than adequate since it has five bedrooms, so plenty of room for us.” She balanced on the arm of a chair directly before Arthur. “By the looks of those pictures, the reception rooms seem pretty spacious too and, according to Fiona, it has its own access to the waterfront, which I thought you might like.”

 

“If Fiona recommended it, I'm sure it's fine,” Rhys added his opinion, as Arthur scanned the printed photos then handed them over to him. He looked them over before saying brightly, “It looks perfect.”

 

“And you'll never guess what it's called.” Gwen's eyes twinkled with mischief as she spoke mysteriously. “Fiona saved the best till last... It's called Avalon. It appears Fiona's friend is crazy about the Arthurian Legend.”

 

“It was meant for us, then,” Merlin said, crowing somewhat, yet he flushed when he remembered that neither Gwen nor Drew knew about Arthur's one-time identity and he certainly sobered when he remembered that he'd sent a number of his friends out across Lake Avalon to rest in peace. He shrugged off the sad thought and continued, “Where else would Camelot's finest stay?”

 

“As usual, Gwen, you've excelled yourself and you're definitely one of Camelot's finest...” Arthur gazed at his PA with a dreamy expression in his eyes, but he quickly pulled himself together, adding teasingly, “And, without sounding too big-headed, I dread to think where the firm would be without my intervention now and then. Drew's always been a close friend, but as for Rhys?” A smirk turned up the corners of Arthur's mobile mouth while his eyes crinkled at the corners. “He's not really been with us very long, so the jury is still out on that one.”

 

“What do you mean?” Rhys retorted. “You'd be six feet under if I hadn't dragged you out of that water, so I think that means I qualify.”

 

“I might have come to and saved myself,” Arthur protested, though he knew this not to be true.

 

“I doubt it,” Rhys countered and both were about to launch into one of their playful banters when the radio phone started shrilling in the cabin.

 

Arthur stood and squeezed past Gwen, allowing his body to touch hers before taking the handset from the bulkhead wall backing onto the cockpit. “That's probably my father making sure we caught the plane on time,” he said, then changed his greeting as his mother's voice came over the line.

 

“Hi, Mum. What are you doing up at this time?” Although they were now in the air it was still very early. Suddenly, Arthur's body froze while his fair complexion turned pasty. “When did this happen?”

 

Although they were flying at over forty thousand feet, Ygraine's voice sounded loud and clear and extremely stressed. “Last night, before he went to bed. I found him in his study, though he must have reached the bedroom at some point, because he was dressed for bed.” There was a pause as Ygraine drew in a deep breath. “I'd fallen asleep, but woke during the night... it was just getting light when I realised your father wasn't in bed, so I went in search of him.” She faltered again, but after a second she continued. “I went to look for him... and that's when I found him... in his chair.”

 

“But what's wrong, Mum?” Arthur tried hard to keep his voice soft, but couldn't quite help the edge of worry which crept into his tone. “Was it a heart attack, and how is Dad?”

 

“The doctors say it's a stroke. A major one. Oh, Arthur, if I hadn't fallen asleep. If I'd only gone looking for him when I went to bed and had seen he wasn't there, but I assumed he was still chatting to his friends.” Ygraine couldn't stifle a sob. “They say the sooner one gets treatment for a stroke the better, but your father must have lain for quite a few hours in that chair before I found him and called for an ambulance. It's my fault...”

 

“No, Mother. You mustn't think that way. It was an easy assumption to make. I'd probably have done the same.” Arthur noticed the stares of his friends were focused on him, each looking on with some alarm, especially Merlin. Was his warlock just picking up on his emotions, or was he reading his mind? “Look, I'll have the plane turn around and I'll be with you as soon as possible. Are you at Cardiff & Vale?”

 

“We are. But no, Arthur, you mustn't! Your father was conscious when I found him and he was adamant that you must continue with your research.” Another sob came over the phone as she recalled Benedict's garbled yet desperate request. “He worked himself into a terrible state when I mentioned calling you home. The paramedics were very concerned. You know how much Camelot Industries mean to him. It's his life... his father's... all his family's life. I promised him you'd continue trying to clear the firm's reputation and...”

 

Arthur interrupted his mother, more sharply than he'd intended, “But he's had a stroke, Mum. He could die! I can't stay in Scotland, hundreds of miles away.”

 

“The doctors think he has a very good chance of survival now that he's receiving treatment, but he must be kept calm. Any stress wouldn't be good for him at all. If he saw you... God knows what would happen.”

 

Tears misted Arthur's eyes. “Mum, please. I can't stay away. I need to know what's happening.”

 

“I know, my boy. I know how you feel about your father, but I also know that there's a lot more at stake here than just Camelot's good name... and you know that too.” Ygraine was regaining her composure and her sense of calm was feeding through to her son. “I'll keep in touch with you as often as you need. We can Skype each other. I'll even put your father online, if the doctors say he's up to it.”

 

“Gwen, does this house we're going to have access to the internet?” Arthur almost barked his request, but Gwen didn't cringe, knowing from Arthur's side of the conversation that Benedict Penderel might be critically ill.

 

“It does. It was the one thing that I made sure of.” Gwen had stood up and taken some steps toward Arthur, reaching out her hand to lay it on his shoulder. “Fiona tells me that her friend uses Skype to keep in touch with her daughters in Australia, so it has a very reliable connection.”

 

There was another moment of silence as Arthur warred internally with his feelings: his need to return to support his parents, or his father's request to continue with his work. If only he could divide himself in two. Mother needed someone to help her and at that thought his mind turned to Anna.

 

“Mum, have you been able to reach Anna? If she was there with you, I wouldn't feel so bad about leaving you on your own.”

 

“I'm just about to call her. I'm sure when she hears that Dad is ill, she'll be on the first plane back from Paris... or wherever she is. Meanwhile, your Aunt Elaine is on her way to the hospital, so you mustn't think I'm alone.”

 

There was another much longer pause as Arthur heard his mother talking to someone at her end of the line. His fingers began drumming on the wall, until Gwen took his hand into her own, lending him her support.

 

Ygraine spoke once more with a hint of relief. “Arthur, that was Doctor Grayson, the stroke specialist who's been treating your father. He tells me your father has regained consciousness which is a good thing since it has happened quite quickly. He was admitted to Intensive Care, but they think they can transfer him to the High Dependency Unit, which is also a positive sign. I'm going to go visit with him now. Please, my dear boy, don't upset your father by abandoning your task. Go on and get settled into your temporary home... and you can call me or your aunt whenever you like.” Again his mother was interrupted by someone beside her. “Oh, Dr Grayson tells me that he'd be pleased to talk to you once you've landed. He's given me a phone number where he can be reached. Have you a pen and paper?”

 

Arthur nodded, while turning to Gwen. “A pen and paper... quickly. I need you to take down a phone number.”

 

Clearly, Gwen was used to such orders being thrust at her and within seconds she was ready to write. The all important number was transferred and Gwen quickly filed it away for safety inside her brief case.

 

“Now, Arthur, you must promise me that for the present you won't return home. Doctor Grayson has assured me it isn't necessary, especially since it would distress your father.” Ygriane heaved a sigh. “If your father's condition worsens, which I'm sure won't happen -- he's too stubborn to die -- we'll let you know immediately and I promise to send the helicopter for you... and perhaps the jet can stay in Glasgow airport for the present.”

 

Arthur echoed his mother's sigh. “All right, Mum. If you're sure, I'll keep going... but you know I'm going to be constantly pestering you for news.”

 

A rather shaky laugh came over the phone. “I give you permission to plague me as often as you like... and thank you, Arthur. Your father will be pleased.”

 

“Send him my love, Mum... and take care.”

 

“I will... and I love you, my boy.”

 

The connection went dead and Arthur hung up the handset, turning into the centre of the cabin. “My father has suffered a stroke,” he said flatly. “They're transferring him to HDU... so my mother says.”

 

“Oh, Arthur,” Gwen said, her voice almost breaking on a sob, but she held her tears back. Gently, her fingers stroked the tense muscles of his arm. “Do you want to go home? Rhys and Drew could manage without us for a bit, I'm sure.”

 

Drew stood up immediately ready to offer his support, but he noticed how Gwen took it for granted she would accompany Arthur no matter what he decided. “Of course we could. Rhys knows where to go and I can do the diving on my own,” he said generously, while hiding a twinge of envy.

 

Arthur contemplated this option before shaking his head. “Thanks, Drew, but Dad wants me to continue the search. If I went back now, he'd only work himself up into a stew.” He took hold of Gwen's hand again and sat down, pulling her closer to him... needing the comfort of his best friend who happened to be his reincarnated wife. For a moment, he leaned his head against her, then he faced his friends, clearing his throat and stating resolutely, “No. We need to carry on and find out what's causing this phenomenon. That's what Dad wants me to do and, by God, I'm going to do it.”

 

“ _Are you sure, Arthur? I could help... with magic,”_ Merlin said, his blue eyes full of understanding as Arthur turned to him.

 

“ _Thanks, Merlin, but I'm not sure my father would understand or the medical team for that matter. I don't want to start some kind of witch hunt and end up losing you.”_

 

“ _I'd be careful...”_

 

“ _I've no doubt, but my father's life doesn't seem to be in any danger for now. Perhaps we should wait and see what happens. But thanks for the offer... and I might take you up on it if things get worse.”_

 

“ _You know you've only to ask. I want to help... and not just you, but your parents too.”_ Out loud, for the benefit of the others, Rhys went on, “If there's anything I can do, Arthur, I will. Your Mum and Dad are really good people and they don't deserve this.”

 

“ _See, I told you you'd like my father this time round,”_

 

Arthur gave a nod of his head and a slight smile as he let go of Gwen, but he was over the moon when she stayed near, her arm wrapping around his shoulder. “I'd like to thank all of you for being here for me and my family. But I think we can best help my father by clearing Camelot's reputation.”

 

“Then that's what we'll do,” Rhys said without a trace of a doubt as, silently, he pledged himself to Arthur and Camelot.

 

 

*****

 

 

Almost six hundred miles away on another small island in the middle of the Seine a mobile phone trilled incessantly while a mother in Wales waited anxiously. Eloise Blessed crossed to the ancient wooden dresser and picked up the phone, her smooth brow creasing in vexation. She'd been prepared for The Penderel family's attempts to contact Anna, yet she hadn't expected the barrage of calls since very early this morning.

 

In Eloise's eyes, Anna would always be Morgana and she was more closely related to her than the Penderels ever could be. Once Uther had been Morgana's father and Arthur her half-brother, but this time round they were only related through adoption and though that was enough in the eyes of the law, to Eloise it meant they had no true connection to her.

 

Morgause, who'd been christened Eloise in her current life, had lived through a number of incarnations and in every one she'd searched tirelessly for her sister, Morgana. All her past endeavours had been fruitless but now she'd found her, she wasn't about to let her go.

 

However, that didn't mean she could simply ignore these calls. If Ygraine didn't receive an answer, she would probably report Anna missing. In ordinary circumstances the police might think that a report of a missing woman in her mid-twenties, who'd only been gone for less than forty-eight hours somewhat premature, but the Penderels had clout and that could prove an inconvenience. She had to do something to cover the trail.

 

Eloise let the call end before picking up Anna's mobile. With nimble fingers she replied with a text, saying that Anna was in an early but important work meeting which couldn't be interrupted and she'd reply once she was free. She signed it with Anna's usual flourish to her mother, which she'd discovered when checking earlier messages...

 

'U R loving Daughter' finalised with two kisses.

 

Some minutes later, the mobile in her hand sang out again, only this time Ygraine had sent a text...

 

'Call urgently! Your father is very ill.'

 

Eloise' lips tightened into a thin line. In other circumstances, she'd be only too happy to hear Uther was sick. In fact, she hoped his condition was terminal; however, the timing could not be less welcome. Anna would have to answer this text in person, or Ygraine would realise all was not well with their daughter. But was Anna ready to play her part in Eloise and Mark's schemes to bring Camelot to its knees?

 

Unfortunately, in this life, Anna was not at loggerheads with her father, or any of her adopted family. In truth, the relationship appeared a very close knit and supportive one, even if they didn't live in each other's pockets.

 

A loud clanging of the ancient door bell intruded on Eloise's ruminations. She heaved a sigh and quickly descended the narrow, uneven stairwell, not totally shocked to see the identity of her caller, nor surprised that he should be visiting at such an early hour. Behind him, she saw the refuse lorries -- always out close to dawn -- carrying away the rubbish, their bulk almost too large for the narrowness of the streets.

 

The trucks were followed closely by the street cleaners and her visitor had to jump quickly aside to avoid being soaked.

 

“Why the hell you choose to live in such an antiquated place I have simply no idea. It's damn inconvenient,” the man declared, passing Eloise as she stood aside, gesturing to him to climb the stairs. “I had the devil of a time finding it. In fact, until you told me, I'd no idea there was such a place as the Ile St Louis.”

 

“That's because you're a complete Anglophile,” Eloise said dismissively as she walked quickly on his heels. “I'd be surprised if you'd travelled beyond England's shores before you became who you are today. And if you had difficulty finding it, then Benedict and his minions might also have the same problem, which suits my purposes very well.”

 

The man had reached the first landing and turned back to face her, his expression sour. “Our purposes, Eloise. Don't you forget that,” he stated, his tone exasperated, underlined with a hint of warning.

 

She swept regally by him, her haughty stare locking with his for a few seconds before she entered the long narrow room. “Come in, Mark, and do tell me why you're here. When I gave you this address, I didn't expect you to come calling unless in an emergency.”

 

Mark marched into the chamber, looking around him at the ancient wooden furniture and the tall stained glass window at the far end, which seemed the room's only source of light. “How in the world did you find this house?”

 

“Not in this century,” Eloise answered, as she walked slowly to the fireplace, standing on a patterned rug whose colours had faded with age. “Which is why the title deeds are not in the name of Eloise Blessed. This has been home to Morgause Le Faye through many incarnations. In every life, I have found my way here. In this house, Eloise does not exist,” she concluded, throwing off her modern day alter-ego as she would an unwanted cloak.

 

“So, a family home, you might say,” Mark said with a certain amount of sarcasm, clearly not seeing the attraction of the historical building. “As long as it's safe from the Pendragons, then it's fine by me.” He sat down on a large, throne-like chair without being invited, his cold black eyes surveying Morgause. “Have you made any progress with Anna Penderel?”

 

“Anna doesn't concern you,” Morgause answered just as icily. “She is my sister, and I'd thank you to remember that.”

 

“Not in this life,” Mark Cornwallis reminded her, folding his hands neatly in his lap. Every move the man made was for effect. “Don't form an attachment to her. We have to use her against the Penderels.”

 

“You're wrong,” Morgause hissed back, a viper spitting venom. “Anna was adopted. Her real family was wiped out in an automobile accident when she was just a baby. The authorities said she'd no living relatives, but that wasn't true. Her father had sired another child before he married. I am that child. My mother told me before she died, but she'd very little information to give me... only his name and that he'd married someone else and had children. It took me a long time to track down Anna, but I did find her. Now I grant that you're in charge of the attack against Camelot Industries, but I'll deal with Anna in my own way. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Perfectly, Eloise.” And as the High Priestess drew herself up, he amended superciliously. “Sorry. Morgause. As long as you make sure she's totally under your control, ready to do your bidding.”

 

At his latter statement, Morgause's imperious mask slipped a fraction. “Actually, I hate to admit it, but we do have a problem there.”

 

Her foot traced an indistinct scroll on the rug, which once upon a time had been a vibrant red edged with gold, her movement a clear indication of her consternation. Morgause had hoped for more time to work with her sister. She looked up, directly into Mark's arcane stare. When had he been totally consumed by Cornelius Sigan? An unwelcome foreboding overtook her, though she shrugged it off. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, the one and only remaining in this day and age. Mark might be the vessel for a powerful sorcerer, but a sorcerer could be bent to her power.

 

“Yes?” Cornelius's brow arced.

 

“It seems Benedict Penderel has suffered a major stroke.”

 

“When?” Mark sat straighter in his chair, his pitch-black gaze sharpening. “From where did you hear that? There's been nothing about it on the news feeds.”

 

“Yet it's true,” Morgause answered with the tiniest of smirks as her sense of power reasserted itself. Even a powerful sorcerer didn't know everything. “In answer to both your questions, it must have happened sometime during the night... and I have Anna's mobile. Ygraine has been trying desperately to reach her daughter.”

 

“Can't you answer? Take on Anna's persona?”

 

“That's more difficult than you'd believe, as I'm sure you know. I could fool a casual friend or relative, but a worrying mother would be more problematic. One slip and she'll set the police on us.”

 

“Surely a High Priestess such as yourself could deal with an enquiry from the local constabulary.” Again Mark barely held back his scorn.

 

“I could... but I'd rather not draw any attention to the fact that Anna might be missing.”

 

“Then enchant her and get the girl herself to answer.”

 

Morgause drew herself together with some difficulty. She would not allow Sigan to disconcert her. “That's exactly what I'm trying to do.” She calmed herself with a couple of deep breaths. “However, I'd thought I had more time. This unexpected happening means I have to move quickly and I can do that without your untimely intrusion.” Gold surged in her eyes as the door opened with a loud creak. “I suggest you take yourself back to the UK and continue to undermine Camelot Industries. Once Benedict's illness becomes known, I'm sure their stockholders will become even more nervous, which should make your job easier.”

 

A few seconds passed as Mark remained where he sat, their wills crackling unspoken and unseen in the charged air of the room. How he wished he could gainsay her, but he had to admit she had a point. He didn't know Anna, or how best to bend her to his control, but he did know how to manipulate the stock market. He stood, explaining as if to a subordinate, “Camelot Industries will not fall so easily. Arthur Penderel might appear to be a feckless playboy to the general public, but to the business world he's a seasoned fighter, able to assume his father's mantle. Perhaps more so, since he seems to be able to draw on the loyalty of his employees. Except one.” Here he grinned, but with more satisfaction than mirth. “I believe I've managed to persuade one of his employees to my own side. One I hope will prove useful. Very useful indeed.” He walked to the door, since it seemed he had little option. He'd been dismissed, but he wouldn't be defeated in a test of wills. He swung back to face his so-called partner... difficult situations created strange alliances. He made sure he had the last word. “Make sure you do the same with the woman upstairs. Forget her past relationship to you. In this day and age, she might not share their blood, but she's a Penderel through and through.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked what you read... and, again, I'd be happy to know what you think.
> 
> A big thank you to those who left kudos. See you in two weeks.


	14. Islands of Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry to keep you waiting for this chapter but I went on a trip and forgot to post before I left. I wasn't online while I was away and only got home last night when I remembered my mistake. I'll post this chapter now and post chapter 15 tomorrow as an apology. I hope that makes up a little for my forgetfulness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we find out more about a certain villain and what her aims are.
> 
> Magic is also used in this chapter and I depict the casting of spells in brackets and bold. I availed myself of a very helpful Merlin site which shows the translation of spells used throughout the show. It was very helpful indeed, but I also used some translation sites of Old English to Modern English language. Between the two sites, I hope I came up with something plausible, but this is a fantasy/supernatural story. Please enjoy!

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Islands of Enchantments

 

 

The shafts of morning light lanced through the mullioned window, while the shadows of the heavy flowering wisteria which clung to the outside wall of the house drifted like a ghost across Morgause's face and form. The resurrected priestess did not look pleased as she mounted the uneven staircase. A certain air of melancholy radiated from her as she reached her goal. Pushing open the door, she stepped quietly inside.

 

On the bed, in a deep sleep lay Morgana... but she couldn't call her that yet. Although she'd been slowly attempting to bring the young woman under her spell, Anna was proving unexpectedly resistant. Morgause lifted Morgana's slim arm from the bed-clothes and fingered the bracelet she'd placed around her wrist.

 

It was a bracelet of great antiquity, one she'd found when she'd been reborn into the tenth century and gone in search of Camelot and the Isle of the Blessed. The last time she'd ever seen the ruins of either, such as they were. Since that age, the landscape had slowly changed, buildings had fallen into decay, soil, trees and bushes of thorn had overgrown them; even the water courses had changed. The Lake of Avalon was no more than a memory, except in times of flood. Her time, her first life, the places and people she had known had faded into legend.

 

Yet they had been real, vibrant with life... and would be again, if she and her perverse accomplice could achieve the destruction of the Penderels and return the Old Religion to the world. If only she could persuade Anna to her side, she could rid herself of Mark, or his alter ego... Cornelius Sigan.

 

Morgause sank to the bed next to her sister, lifting Morgana's arm to her cheek, pressing a soft kiss on the exposed skin. She stayed very still for a few moments, calming her nerves to control her magic before enchanting the bracelet. In a voice that sounded almost like a song, she began to incant a spell... the one she had used frequently since she'd brought Anna to her home.

 

[ **Hylstan! Gehylstan to min gereord. Hieran min giedd. Wearnian!** ]

 

In the language of the Old Religion, she commanded Morgana to listen to her voice, to her story of how once they'd been sisters, united in their fight against the Pendragons, to claim Camelot and return magic to the realm. And how, in this present time, Anna was destined to lay claim to the Camelot fortune, to destroy Uther, though he was called Benedict. To rid the world of Arthur and the immortal Emrys, who together would try to defeat their sisterhood. Only after Arthur's and Merlin's deaths would the way be clear for the Triple Goddess to reign supreme, for Morgause and Morgana to take their place as the rightful rulers of Albion.

 

Yet, though she repeated the spell again and again, the woman in the bed remained serenely immune in her induced coma. In a fit of pique, Morgause dropped Anna's arm like a hot coal. What was wrong with her sister that she wouldn't let her into her mind?

 

Had Anna lived with the Penderels for too long? Though she hated to admit it, Morgause was worried about Ygraine's influence. The woman didn't have magic, but she did have a powerful ally in the White Goddess. Nimueh had made so many mistakes when she'd agreed to Uther's request to make it possible for Ygraine to have a son, particularly when the queen's life had been forfeit. Down through the centuries, the reverberations were still interfering with Morgause's plans.

 

Nimueh's deeds had attracted the attention of the White Goddess, who'd felt such compassion for the blameless mother that she'd taken her under her care, granting her many boons and even allowing her some knowledge of magic. Could Ygraine somehow have warned Anna against sorcery, if only subconsciously? It never occurred to Morgause that love alone was strong enough to shield a child from dark magic.

 

Kilgarrah could have told her that love was the strongest... the most enduring force in all the world. Hate and prejudice might prevail for a time and evil might believe it had triumphed, but love and compassion could never be destroyed.

 

Yet there was no doubt that Morgause had loved her sister, though it was a love bound by conditions.

 

“Whose side are you on, Morgana? Are you with Uther or are you with me?”

 

Those were the questions the High Priestess had asked her sister on a night so long ago in the shadows of the Darkling Woods. Morgana had given the right answer, so it had never occurred to Morgause to wonder what action she would have taken had Morgana chosen Uther.

 

Would she have been able to put an end to Morgana, or would she have enchanted her as she was attempting to do now? Even in that last life, she'd placed Morgana in a state of unconsciousness. She'd wielded her staff to incant a spell, using the younger woman as a vessel to perpetuate a sleeping sickness which would allow her to kill Uther and usurp Arthur.

 

Later, when Morgana had discovered she was Uther's daughter, Morgause had been unable to contain her elation. She'd believed fortune was smiling on her because her sister had a claim to the throne of Camelot. At last there would be two High Priestesses at the heart of Camelot. But fate had decreed a different path.

 

She'd given her own life to aid Morgana in her struggle against the Pendragons. Some might say she was sacrificing herself out of love for her sister, but she'd also been driven by resentment and revenge. In truth, Morgause's finer feelings had been consumed by the dark religion she'd worshipped since she was a child, just as Morgana's goodness had leached away as she'd become indoctrinated by her elder sister.

 

Morgause was so steeped in the Old Religion that it had followed her in all her reincarnations. In fact, the Triple Goddess had seen fit to gift Morgause many lives so that she could attempt to return their beliefs to the world. On occasions she'd had some success and had wrought untold suffering on Albion, but in this current life she could not afford to fail, for the time of the prophecy was upon them... the Once and Future King had returned.

 

She'd formed an uneasy alliance with Cornelius Sigan, but his chosen vessel, Mark Cornwallis, was too pompous, too filled with self- gratification to rely upon completely. Some time in the future, no doubt, she'd have to rid herself of his vainglorious presence.

 

She needed Morgana, yet it seemed that for the present, Anna Penderel was resisting her call. Morgause was not about to give up and she needed to make good very soon.

 

“Damn Benedict Penderel!” She spoke to the dim, musky air about her. “Even in dying he thwarts me.”

 

Yet Morgause was not faint-hearted, from the rickety corner cupboard she took her magical staff -- the staff she'd found at the same time she'd gone searching for the bracelet -- and prepared to use it again.

 

Her eyes flashed gold as she commanded, **[Astyrian bedd!]**

 

She moved aside as the bed on which Morgana lay moved away from the wall, giving her enough room to walk around it while tracing a golden circle on the floor. As she circled her sister, she repeated the same spell as earlier.

 

[ **Hylstan! Gehylstan to min gereord. Hieran min giedd. Wearnian!** ]

 

And though she reiterated her story again and again, there wasn't a glimmer of proof that she'd penetrated the soul of the sleeping woman.

 

Dropping the staff at her feet, Morgause covered her face with her hands while she screamed silently in frustration. For a long moment, she stared at the pale face of her sister, before turning on her heel and heading for the cellar. There was one thing she hadn't tried... had resisted trying because it would bring pain and suffering to the one person in the world she had feelings for. Besides, if Morgana had magic the enchantment wouldn't work. Only, Morgause was ready to admit that this Anna's magic was hidden so deep within her psyche that it was almost non-existent. Without the shield of magic, Morgause could subject Anna to The Teine Diaga and bring the young woman under her influence.

 

With a heavy step and a much troubled mind, she descended to the crypt to dig up the mandrake roots.

 

*****

 

The house in Balvicar village proved to be ideal for Arthur and his friends. The kitchen-cum-dining room was fitted out well, while the cream painted lounge was large, airy and comfortably furnished. They each had a bedroom to themselves and while Gwen was given the downstairs bedroom which had a bathroom-en-suite, the men made do with the upstairs rooms and family bathroom. It left one smaller bedroom on the ground floor which, they agreed, would become a study if any of the four needed privacy to work.

 

Only Gwen had protested Arthur's plans, saying that Arthur as the COO and leader of the expedition should have the room she'd been given, but Arthur had remained adamant. Merlin, however, was unsure if Arthur was being a gentleman or just wanted to keep some space between Gwen and Drew. Seeing as Arthur took the first bedroom at the top of the stairs, which would give him a clear view of anyone using the staircase but also happened to be the larger, Merlin couldn't be sure of his friend's motives. However it wasn't really important as Merlin approved of the fact that Arthur wanted to pay court to Gwen.

 

All four of the group were thrilled with the spacious sunroom which looked out over the garden and down to the waterfront. Indeed, the view was stunningly beautiful no matter from which room you surveyed it. Fiona had indeed found them a place where they would be comfortable, and the garages and outhouses had plenty of space for the diving gear as well as the Range Rover they'd hired. There had actually been a bit of consternation at the airport when it was discovered that all the equipment plus the luggage wouldn't fit into the large boot. Yet the hire company had come up trumps when they'd produced and fitted a roof-box for the car.

 

Nevertheless, Arthur had still felt uneasy that one car wouldn't be enough for their needs when they reached Seil. A problem which was soon solved when they trudged into the kitchen and found some carrier bags filled with groceries, a note from Fiona and a set of car keys for a slightly aged Fiat 500, which belonged to the owner of the house, all lying on top of the kitchen counters.

 

In her letter, Fiona had apologised for not being there to greet them, but as she wasn't exactly sure when they would arrive and she had clients to visit in Oban, she'd decided to leave some food and essentials which they would find in the bags or in the fridge and freezer. Their availing themselves of the car had been the thought of her very good friend, who had been for some months in Australia and was thus afraid that the little vehicle might seize up through lack of use. The lady's only proviso was that they should take care of her 'baby' that was christened Guinevere.

 

Arthur and Merlin shared a telepathic laugh at that piece of information and declared aloud that Gwen should drive the car for the duration of their stay. A decision which made sense since it would probably be Gwen who would be doing the shopping and looking after the group while the others worked on uncovering the secrets of the flooded quarries, so having transport would make her life easier.

 

“I'm assuming there isn't much in the way of take-out in this neck of the woods,” Arthur laughed as he rummaged through the fridge, though his good mood was fleeting as his thoughts returned to the hospital in Cardiff and the plight of his father. “I'm sorry, guys, but would you mind getting us settled in while I go call my mother again?”

 

“Of course not,” Gwen was quick to reassure him. “Why don't you go out to the sunroom to talk to your mother. I'll sort out the kitchen and make us all coffee, if you'd like?” She looked over at Rhys and Drew, but her gaze quickly returned to Arthur.

 

“And I'll put your stuff in your room and unpack it,” Rhys offered, his eyes darkened with shared anxiety. Merlin couldn't help but wonder if Benedict had overheard their conversation and the shock had caused his stroke. If so, he worried what type of man would emerge from the illness? He'd heard that people's personality could change if the brain trauma was serious enough.

 

“Thanks, Rhys. Take my bags up to the room, the one at the top of the stairs,” Arthur reminded his friend, but Merlin wasn't his servant this time around. “But you don't have to unpack for me. I can do that myself later.”

 

“That's OK. I don't mind doing it... really.” Merlin stared at Arthur, silently letting him know he was willing to help in any way he could.

 

“Rhys, you don't have to do that. I'm not helpless, and you're my geologist, not my valet.” Arthur's blue eyes stared Merlin's down as he added telepathically. _“Merlin, you're my friend and I don't think I want a servant in this life. Just be my friend. That I do need.”_

 

“Come on, Rhys, I'll help you get the bags upstairs,” Drew said, hefting up Arthur's designer case and groaning as he felt its weight. “Yeah Gods, Arthur, have you packed for a month?”

 

Arthur shrugged, saying with just the hint of an apology. “We don't know how long we're going to be here... and I've never really learned the habit of travelling light. Sorry.”

 

Between them, Rhys and Drew lifted all the luggage and headed up the stairs, leaving Gwen and Arthur alone. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before Arthur caught Gwen's gaze. They stood perfectly still, staring at each other, while wanting to voice what was in their hearts. But the years they'd spent as platonic friends and the current worry about Benedict held them silent. Arthur coughed, breaking the moment. “I should call my mother.”

 

“And I'll just take this to my room,” Gwen said, reaching for her case, but Arthur was there before her. Their hands touched and a feeling like an electric shock infused them both, yet neither drew back. “Oh, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice filled with understanding, but what she understood wasn't quite clear even to Gwen. She had a strange feeling of deja vu.

 

His fair skin colouring up, Arthur's eyes gentled as he gazed at her then turned away toward the bedroom at the back of the property. Gwen shook herself and followed quickly. He lifted the suitcase onto a low table by the window, saying with a soft smile before excusing himself to go phone his mother. “Lovely view, Gwen!”

 

Alone in the kitchen, Arthur felt like kicking himself. He'd felt the connection to Gwen and he was sure she felt it too, yet all he could manage was an inane comment about the countryside. However, he did have to make that call. It had been some hours since he'd checked on his father's condition.

 

It was a pity he hadn't looked more carefully at the vista from Gwen's window because he might have noticed a strange whirling wind, a small tornado which touched land in the trees behind the house. And he might have been alerted to the presence of a slender man dressed neatly in a Saville Row suit, looking completely out of place as he regarded the heir to Camelot's present dwelling place with a cold-eyed stare.

 

*****

 

Arthur sat in the conservatory, glaring at his mobile. He'd spent the last thirty minutes talking with his mother and his father's stroke specialist. The news wasn't good. Although his father had regained consciousness for a short time, he'd been confused, drowsy and unable to communicate. Dr Grayson said there was also some physical disability. Yet he'd told Arthur not to despair as people often recovered a fair amount of their faculties given treatment and physiotherapy. At this moment, it was just too early to tell what Benedict's prognosis was.

 

He supposed he should be grateful that his father was still alive, but Arthur refused to accept that such a robust, active and intelligent man as Benedict Penderel should be reduced to the state of an invalid.

 

The door to the sun-lounge opened and Arthur knew immediately who'd entered the room. He recognised her fresh scent, the aroma of wild flowers... instinctively felt her comforting presence. Gwen came to sit next to him, slipping her fingers inside his clenched fist and leaned her head on his shoulder.

 

They didn't speak. There was no need for words. Together they looked out at the water gently lapping on the shore, the small white horses rippling the sea loch in the soft summer breeze. The green and purple hills on the other side of the water were tinged with sunlight. How could his father's life be in jeopardy on a beautiful day like this?

 

Yet, slowly, amazingly with the woman he loved by his side a feeling of peace settled upon Arthur. No matter what life threw at him, as long as he had Gwen he wouldn't falter.

 

*****

 

In the rooms upstairs, Drew and Rhys were having a difficult conversation, one which Merlin remembered was very similar to years gone by.

 

“He's in love with her, isn't he?” Drew asked, matter-of-factly, though there was a shadow of disappointment in his eyes.

 

Rhys shrugged. “I think so. Yes.”

 

“Then why hasn't he said anything? They've known each other for ages.”

 

“They have.” Merlin smiled internally as he thought of just how long Arthur and Gwen had known each other, but Drew was waiting for an answer. “From what Arthur said, they met at university... and I think they've both become used to thinking of each other as best friends. Perhaps they were afraid to risk that friendship by confessing their true feelings, or were scared of rejection... or embarrassment... or something.” Again Rhys shrugged. “Don't ask me. I'm not an expert on people's love lives.”

 

“You think she feels the same way about him?” Again Drew couldn't hide his regret.

 

Rhys busied himself with lifting his few belongings from the case and placing them in the chest of drawers. He didn't like hurting this man any more than he had Lancelot the first time around. He turned to face Drew. “I'd say she does. You saw how she was on the plane when Arthur heard about his father. She's down there with him now, comforting him. I believe she's made her choice. Don't you?”

 

Again Merlin sighed inside. It was amazing how wrong the legends had gotten the love triangle, always depicting Arthur as being the one who lost out, when in reality it had always been Lancelot. Arthur and Guinevere had been made for each other... like a hand fits a glove, or as sure as night follows day.

 

“I won't come between them,” Drew said, his voice sad yet resigned. “He's my friend and I wouldn't do that to him... even if I could, which I doubt. I mean, I can't offer her all the things that Arthur can.”

 

Rhys shook his head. “Drew, you don't know Gwen at all if you believe she cares a jot for money! But you can't compete with the life they've shared...” he added wisely, while inside he whispered _'either of their lives.'_ “But your time will come. There could be someone for you waiting just around the corner.”

 

A lopsided grin lit up Drew's face. “And what about you, Rhys? Have you got someone?”

 

“Me?” Rhys sounded doubtful. “There was someone very special. A long time ago. I guess I just haven't had the time lately.”

 

“So your person could be waiting just around the corner, too,” Drew suggested with a conspiratorial smile. “Who knows what the future will bring.” He groaned again, before giving himself a mental shake. “For now, I should really unpack, then I want to go unload the gear and check that it hasn't been damaged in transit. See you!” He backed out the door and wandered down the passageway to find his room, trying to forget his attraction for Gwen, though not quite succeeding.

 

*****

 

After an hour of sorting through the diving equipment and storing it in one of the outhouses, hunger drove Drew back into the kitchen where he found Rhys, industriously making a large pile of sandwiches for a late lunch, while a large golden-crusted apple pie sat in pride of place on the breakfast bar. Drew eyed it up longingly. Rhys looked up, following Drew's gaze.

 

“Compliments of Fiona!” He laughed. “She made it herself. It seems our Fiona MacDougall is a very talented lady.” Again, Merlin wanted to add... in more ways than one. He wondered, offhand, if magic had been employed in the baking. He'd used spells once or twice on more mundane meals, but never anything which looked so tasty. “I thought I'd make us all some lunch, though my stomach tells me it's well past lunchtime.”

 

“Where are Gwen and Arthur?” Drew tried to ask nonchalantly.

 

Rhys put his finger to his lips, beckoning Drew through to the living room. He pointed to the French doors that led out to the conservatory where the couple could be seen lying close together on the thickly cushioned wicker couch. Gwen's head now rested on Arthur's chest and their hands were still clasped but both were fast asleep.

 

Very Quietly, Rhys opened the door before speaking loudly. “Wakey, Wakey! Time to eat.”

 

The recumbent pair jumped, Gwen becoming aware much faster than Arthur. She gave a small self-conscious smile as she smoothed her hair one-handed. Meanwhile, Arthur stretched, discovering he still had hold of Gwen's hand. He let go, albeit reluctantly and received a luminous smile in return.

 

“Sorry, we must have just drifted off,” Arthur admitted with a rueful grin. “Must have been the early morning start... and it's just so warm and comfortable in here.”

 

“Come on, sleepyheads, lunch is served,” Rhys announced, bowing teasingly.

 

Drew stood aside, letting Gwen and Arthur pass. He couldn't help but notice that they walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. Rhys was right. These two were already well on their way to becoming a couple, but they were also his friends and he should be happy for them. He pushed his jealousy aside as he followed them into the kitchen, asking with an interest that wasn't feigned, “What's the news on your dad, Arthur?”

 

As Arthur held a chair back so Gwen could sit down, he let his hand rest lightly on her shoulder. “There's not a great deal of change. He was awake at one point, but he was very disorientated and sleepy. Mum says he couldn't really talk, though he did recognise her...” Arthur paused for a second to swallow back the lump which had formed in his throat. “And according to Dr Grayson, there is some paralysis... he just doesn't know how much, or how permanent it will be.”

 

“Arthur, I don't know much about strokes, but one of my aunts had a small one. I wasn't there at the time, so I can't tell you much about her treatment, but she recovered pretty well,” Drew said, feeling more supportive than he'd expected given his unrequited feelings for Gwen. “And she's a lot older than your dad.”

 

“Your dad's a fighter. He's not about to give up. You'll see, Arthur. He'll be fine.” Gwen let her hand rest over Arthur's for a moment, giving him support by both voice and touch. “Come on, you need to eat if you're to carry out Benedict's wishes. He wants us to get to the bottom of the Easdale mystery, and that's exactly what we're going to do.”

 

It appeared Arthur hadn't heard either Drew or Gwen as he stared off into space, his gaze narrowing, his brow furrowed.

 

“ _Arthur! They're right.”_ Merlin said steadily, hoping to catch Arthur's attention telepathically. _“I don't know your dad well, but he must be a very determined character to have grown the business into the multi-national it is today. He's not going to give in to a mere stroke. And if magic can help him, then I'll do all I can.”_ Merlin was ready to offer everything he was capable of. “ _Though Uther would probably turn in his grave!”_ The last statement was said with a touch of humour, Merlin knowing that Uther's tomb was empty of all but bones and was now actually buried far below centuries-worth layers of earth.

 

Yet it seemed Arthur was deaf to all their words as he moved silently to the window. He leaned forward to peer through the glass. “There's someone out there... by the trees on the right. He's watching the house.”

 

Then he was off at a sprint, through the side door, heading for the trees which bordered the property. Within seconds, Rhys and Drew scurried after him, leaving Gwen standing sentry by the window. Merlin almost whooped. It was just like old times. Yet when he arrived at the copse it seemed he hit an invisible wall. At once, his mood turned serious.

 

Arthur was prowling about... searching for human traces to prove his assumption, while Drew scanned the terrain further afield. There was no sign of any prowler.

 

“Well, he's not here now, and unless he had a means of transport, we should still be able to see him,” Drew said, barely breathing hard though they'd arrived in a rush. “He didn't have time to leg it on foot.”

 

“I don't know. There's plenty of cover around here. Places for him to hide.” Arthur turned in a circle, still looking for evidence that his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him. “There are lots of hollows and clumps of bushes where he could lie low. He might have come from one of those houses.” Arthur's arms spread wide to include the surrounding area. Though there weren't any next door neighbours in the normal sense of the words, there were other homes fairly near.

 

Drew finished his search, satisfied that no danger lurked nearby. “That's probably it. The guy could be a neighbour out for an afternoon stroll and saw people in a house he thought was empty. We might even get a visit from the local police, if he's a member of the neighbourhood watch and he doesn't know we've taken over the tenancy.”

 

The ex-serviceman's explanation seemed the most likely, yet neither Arthur nor Rhys appeared satisfied... especially Rhys. His lungs were heaving like a pair of old bellows, though not from his sudden dash to the trees. He felt oppressed by the charged air all around him... saw the leaves still quivering on the trees, the twigs and feathers that lay scattered on the ground. He sensed the earthy smell of the soil which was tinged with the scent of sulphur. Magic had been practised here.

 

“ _Merlin, what do you feel? I sense it too.”_ Arthur whispered telepathically, afraid someone was nearby who had the ability to overhear.

 

“ _Someone was here and they used sorcery to disappear. They were probably spying on us.”_ Merlin answered, still searching for the intruder.

 

Suddenly, Drew delved into the thick grass, rising seconds later with something in his hand which gleamed darkly.

 

“What's that?” Arthur asked, his attention caught by his friend's movement.

 

“Someone's ring,” Drew answered, giving it a quick clean on his jeans before looking at it more closely. “It's engraved with some sort of crest. Maybe our unknown visitor dropped it.” Once more he glanced around, hoping to return the object to its owner.

 

“May I?” Rhys asked, holding out his hand and when Drew handed him the ring, he studied the etching. “It looks really old.”

 

“Is it silver?” Arthur peered over Rhys's shoulder.

 

“Silver or maybe white gold.” Rhys rubbed at the metal with his fingers, cleaning away the dust from the ground. As the sigil was revealed, his heart almost missed a beat. He hadn't seen this ring for over a millennium and a half.

 

“Can you make out the crest?” Arthur's voice sharpened as he felt Merlin's unease. Something was very wrong.

 

“It's a raven.” Rhys replied flatly, his eyes meeting his friend's troubled stare. _“Arthur, it's the sigil of Cornelius Sigan!”_

 

 

_*****_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it till tomorrow. I hope you forgive me for keeping you waiting. I'd still love to hear what you think of the story. Thanks for reading.


	15. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I'm posting chapter fifteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, dreams come true for Arthur and Merlin.

Chapter Fifteen

 

Memories

 

 

When the three men returned to the house, they found Gwen still staring out of the kitchen window. However, when they asked her if she'd seen anyone leaving the line of trees before they'd got there, she'd been extremely reticent. In fact, she seemed withdrawn and her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. So much so, that Arthur had asked her if she was feeling unwell.

 

The look she turned on him was almost one of accusation and when she professed to feeling tired and had the beginnings of a headache no one had questioned her, but all three were stunned in various degrees when she excused herself to go lie down.

 

Arthur watched her leave with a look of worry tinged with hurt, while Rhys seemed troubled though not wholly surprised. Only Drew, after a few moments, took Gwen's excuse at face value and suggested they resumed eating lunch, declaring he was famished.

 

Clearly, Arthur was about to refuse when he heard Merlin's voice inside his head.

 

“ _Eat! You need to eat to keep your strength up.”_ Merlin's voice was commanding, though his eyes conveyed empathy. _“Give Gwen a little while to herself to come to terms with her memories, then you can go talk to her.”_

 

“ _You think she's remembered?”_ Arthur's question came back quick as a whiplash.

 

“ _I think she saw something that triggered a memory, but whether she's recalled everything, I can't say. You can ask her later.”_

 

Drew glanced at the two men still standing perfectly still, Rhys by the outside door and Arthur having moved closer to the passageway that Gwen had taken a few moments before. He sensed a strange undercurrent between his friends but had no idea what it could be. If Gwen were having second thoughts about Arthur, then so much the better for him, though he couldn't imagine why she should be perturbed. They'd simply gone outside to look for what they thought was an intruder. Arthur had done nothing to vex Gwen.

 

“Well, are we going to eat or not? Personally, I'm starving and Rhys obviously put a lot of work into these sandwiches.” Drew studied the clumsily put together doorsteps of bread with their fillings rather sceptically, but decided he was so hungry he could eat a horse. His eyes brightened as they fell on dessert. “Not to mention that delicious looking apple pie Fiona made.”

 

Rhys grinned. “Come on, Arthur. I'm sure Gwen will be fine. She's probably overtired. After all, she was the one who made all the arrangements to get us up here. You can go comfort her later.”

 

With a final look at the corridor, Arthur shrugged and sat down at the table. “I'm not sure I've much of an appetite,” he mumbled almost inaudibly, but his stomach growled loudly, disagreeing with his brain. He laughed lopsidedly, Rhys and Drew joining in before the three fell on their meal.

 

When the food was finished, all three men had had an extra slice of the apple pie, though Arthur insisted they leave enough for Gwen to enjoy later. The three then cleared away the dishes, Arthur proving that in this day and age he wasn't totally helpless at household tasks.

 

Since it was only halfway through the afternoon and the weather was still good, the men decided they should take a trip to Easdale to show Drew where they would be starting to dive the next day.

 

Arthur, however, didn't want to leave Gwen alone, so he took a slice of apple pie and tiptoed down the hallway to knock softly on her door. He heard a muffled sound coming from inside the room, as if Gwen were trying to hold back a sob. Very gently, he opened the door a crack and peaked around. Gwen was lying on the bed, facing away from him but the shaking of her shoulders proved she was indeed in tears.

 

“Gwen,” he said, softly, closing the door and coming round the end of the bed to where he could see her face. His heart sank when he saw her red-rimmed eyes and her tear streaked cheeks. Could she already be regretting showing some renewed interest in him? He walked closer. “Gwen, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

 

Gwen pushed herself upright though she still kept her head down, staring at the floor. “Why didn't you tell me?” Her voice was full of accusation.

 

“Tell you what?” Arthur felt confused. Did she mean why didn't he tell her he loved her because he was actually asking himself that same question... or was he totally on the wrong track?

 

At last she raised her eyes to his and he was surprised at the depth of pain he saw there. “You know. Please don't lie to me,” she whispered. “Who we are!”

 

The floor felt like it had dropped out beneath his feet, and for a second he chose to prevaricate. “I tell you everything, Gwen. About my family... my girlfriends.” He bent and placed the pie on the bedside table. “I hope you notice there hasn't been anyone in my life lately... You know, that's the best apple pie I've had in years. You really should try some.”

 

“Arthur!” She pulled her legs up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them. “Stop talking about girls and apple pies. I know you've told me all there is to know about your father... but that wasn't what I was talking about.” She stared at him as her chin firmed. “And don't pretend you don't know what I mean.”

 

He sat down on the bed next to her and, though she sent him another accusing look, she didn't pull away. “You've remembered.” It was a statement, not a question, but he did follow with one. Two actually. “How... and when?”

 

She bit at her bottom lip before speaking... so quietly he had to strain to listen. “I watched at the window as you were running out to search for that man. You might be interested to know why you couldn't find him.” Gwen took a deep breath. “He was standing quite still, by the edge of the trees. I think he was clasping something in his hand... and he was talking, or more like chanting something. Suddenly, there was this wind, twirling around him... and then he was gone.” She stopped, dragged a hankie from beneath her pillow and blew her nose. “For a few seconds, I thought I'd imagined it... but he had definitely been there and then he was gone... in a puff of wind and I could still see the leaves and dust settling.”

 

“So that's why there was no one there,” Arthur said, not denying her words. He dared to lay his hand on her folded knee, half expecting her to push him away. Instead she sat very still, watching him... almost testing him, but he wasn't about to fail her. “He's a sorcerer, Gwen. I know that sounds crazy, but he is. A very powerful one.”

 

Still chewing on her lip, Gwen nodded her head in agreement. When she spoke, her voice was hushed and toneless. “I thought that might be it. You see... I remembered I'd witnessed such things before. Long ago... very long ago... in Camelot.”

 

Arthur moved his hand to cover Gwen's which was mindlessly twisting her handkerchief. “How much do you remember?”

 

Gwen closed her eyes, allowing Arthur to massage her hand, yet tears squeezed from under her lids. “Everything, I believe. Oh, not at first. I was confused... terribly, which is why I left. I needed some time to myself. To work things out. I've been lying here with my eyes closed and all these pictures have been spooling in my mind... like some old movie, only I had one of the starring roles. I was Guinevere, maid to Lady Morgana.” Her eyes opened again, her normally calm brown eyes still awash with tears and filled with grief. “I remember Merlin coming to Camelot when I thought Prince Arthur was a bully... and how he managed to change you... slowly.”

 

“He wasn't the only person who changed me, Guinevere. You have to take some of the credit for that.”

 

Again she nodded. “I suppose that's true... but you would always have been a great king.”

 

“Only because I loved you. You made me want to be a better person... fairer and kinder. A different sort of king to my father. I wanted to rule over a land where all people would be happy and proud to belong to Camelot.”

 

“You almost succeeded, Arthur. But you left us... you left me... too soon. Far too soon.” For the first time a hint of anger crept into her voice. “You promised me you'd always be there, but you broke that vow. You abandoned me to rule alone.”

 

Now Gwen was sobbing, deep wrenching cries and when Arthur tried to take her into his arms, she pushed against him. Her hands clenched and she beat against his chest and shoulders, but he didn't move away. He pulled her tighter, his strong arms wrapping around her, his hands smoothing over her back and tangling in her hair, as he allowed her to weep out the storm. Little by little the strength leached from her punches until, finally, she collapsed into his embrace.

 

“I'm sorry, Gwen. I tried to live as long as I could, but I was always destined to die at Camlann... no matter how hard Merlin tried to keep me alive. I promise you, I never wanted to leave you.” He bent his head and spoke into the curls that rioted into the curve of his neck. “Not then... and definitely not now.”

 

Edging back against the pillows, Gwen looked Arthur straight in the eye. “I know. When Merlin finally came back to Camelot... after sending you to Avalon, he told me what had happened. How he had magic... though by then I'd guessed. About how you'd accepted magic before you died and had thanked him for all he'd done. That's why I allowed magic back into the kingdom. I tried to rule as you would have wished me to...”

 

“And you succeeded, Guinevere. You were probably a better sovereign than I. All your compassion and understanding...” He smoothed a tendril of her hair back from her eyes and noticed it was wet.

 

“Don't try to flatter me, Arthur, and don't call me Guinevere. I'm Gwen and I'm mad at you! Merlin went on about the Once and Future King, but I didn't care for that. I needed you then and you left me...” she repeated, her voice fading on a sigh.

 

“But this is the future and I'm right here with you...” Arthur said reasonably, but Gwen still resisted.

 

“But why didn't you tell me?” she asked, trying bravely to muster her cries.

 

Arthur gave a shrug and the smallest of grins. “I haven't exactly known for very long... Besides, you probably would have thought I was crazy if I'd told you we'd both lived before.”

 

“When did you know?” Her brown eyes refused to let him look away, while her lips thinned with determination.

 

“Only when I met Rhys. Well, not even then... but when I woke up after he'd pulled me from the water and I saw his worried face staring down at me... I just knew. It hit me like a ton of bricks, but I was aware of everything. He was Merlin and the life I spent in Camelot seemed only a few days ago.” He experimented by giving her another encouraging smile, but she didn't quite respond, though there was a softening in her eyes. “I can tell you, it blew my mind for a few minutes, but then, weirdly, it felt kinda normal. As if I'd always known I would return.”

 

Yet Gwen was not about to surrender so easily. “You could've told me when we were at The Lochside Hotel. We had plenty of time together alone.”

 

“I suppose... and I did think of it,” Arthur almost stuttered, unsure if he should confess his rationale. But he was sick of hiding his feelings. “I did have my reasons.” He paused to collect his thoughts before plunging in at the deep end. “I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel compelled to fall in love with me just because we had before. Because we'd once been married.”

 

He didn't get any further as Gwen launched herself into his arms, her mouth sealing his own with a kiss... a kiss full of promise... of passion. When finally she leaned back, but without taking herself out of his arms, she whispered breathlessly. “Arthur, I've been in love with you from the day I spilled your coffee. You must have known?”

 

“I did!” Arthur swallowed, his own heart racing. “Well, I'd hoped, but then we went and had that silly conversation about not having time for romance and we should just be friends. After university, you seemed to want things to stay that way and I didn't dare risk our friendship by making a move which might have made you feel uncomfortable.”

 

“I could hardly show you how I really felt when you were determined to prove yourself as the UK's biggest playboy...”

 

“But I was never interested in any of those women. Though I admit I did try to find someone else.” He grimaced apologetically. “I didn't want to be alone forever, but none of them could compare to you!”

 

“Are you saying you love me?” For the first time Gwen felt shy in Arthur's arms.

 

Taking Gwen's face within his hands, Arthur's expression gentled and his blue gaze seemed to glow. “I love you, Gwen. I've always loved you and I always will.”

 

He waited until Gwen leaned against his chest before tightening his embrace. He smiled into her moist eyes, before closing his mouth over hers. She moaned softly as she lay back on the bed, pulling Arthur with her, their bodies seeming to recognise each other instinctively. They lay together, kissing, touching... and time had no meaning as they reclaimed their love.

 

*****

 

In the lounge, Drew and Rhys were waiting and while Rhys was unconcerned by the amount of time Arthur was spending in Gwen's bedroom, Drew was clearly growing impatient. Not only impatient. He might have accepted that he'd lost Gwen... in truth, she was never really his to lose, but he wasn't comfortable watching their love story unfold, or should that be resumed? Since seeing them together, he got the unpleasant notion that not all their relationship at university had been platonic.

 

“I think our friends might be some time.” Rhys's words cut into Drew's dejected reverie. “Why don't I take you to Easdale? Just you and me?”

 

Drew nodded. He was anxious to see where they would be diving on the morrow. Besides, right at the moment, he wanted to distance himself from the couple. He wasn't sure he could treat Arthur as a friend right now.

 

“I like that idea. I really need to take a look at the site and it seems these two are otherwise engaged.”

 

“Right.” Rhys scooped up the car keys. “Come on. I know the way.”

 

With a backward glance down the hall, Drew took a deep breath and followed Rhys. He wasn't quite sure why he felt so in-tune with the geophysicist because he didn't normally make friends quite so easily, but he realised he'd trust this young man with his life.

 

Within the hour, Rhys was showing Drew the dark lagoon where it had all begun. The waters were still as a mill pond and glinted like polished metal in the sun.

 

“Do we know how deep they are?” Drew asked, surveying the rocky landscape surrounding the flooded quarry.

 

“According to Fiona, the waters have never been mapped, but local knowledge says the bottoms are very uneven and she reckons they are deeply pitted too. Speaking from personal experience, I can tell you visibility is poor. It's as dark as the Ace of Spades down there.”

 

“And what exactly are we looking for?” Drew looked directly at Rhys, squinting into the sun.

 

“We're not exactly sure,” Rhys answered, stroking his chin. “Anything unusual. Anything which looks out of place down there.”

 

Drew's eyebrows raised. “And that's the best you can do? I've got to admit, you and Arthur are being very secretive about this whole mission. Don't you trust me?” he added on a rather forlorn note.

 

“Of course, I do... and so does Arthur. You should know that.” Rhys pressed his lips together, wondering if he should tell Drew the whole truth, yet knowing it would be far better if Drew recalled his first life on his own. “To tell the truth, we don't know what we're looking for, but I suspect we'll know when we find it. It's not that we're being clandestine on purpose.”

 

“Yet you are hiding something.” It was a statement rather than a question.

 

For a second or two, Rhys looked everywhere but at Drew, but finally he met Drew's frustrated stare. “Can you trust us? Me and Arthur, I mean. Can you trust us for a little while longer until things become clearer? They will, believe me.”

 

There was another long silence before Drew let out the breath he'd been holding. He was no nearer to the truth, but he sensed that whatever it was Rhys was hiding he was not acting out of malice. “OK. I guess I can wait... for now, at least. But I do want to know what's between you and Arthur.” He stepped back from the edge of the tarn, looking down the rest of the track. “You did say there was more than one of these ponds... and that they've all been affected at some time or another.” As Rhys nodded, Drew pointed down the trail. “Then show me.”  
  
“This way.” Rhys strode off to the far side of the small island, the path skirting around the craggy shore line, but he hadn't gone far when a small, muddy, less than white dog came running towards him, its tail wagging.

 

“Hello there,” Rhys bent down as the friendly animal danced around his feet. Letting it first sniff his hand, he stroked beneath its chin before rubbing its ears. If it were possible, the dog's tail wagged faster. “Ah, you like that?”

 

Close on Rhys's heels, Drew stopped and looked about him. “I wonder where its owner is,” he said, though in truth, on this scrap of an island he supposed a dog could quite safely roam free, particularly one with such a friendly temperament.

 

“Rory!” The silence was broken by the sound of a female voice. “Rory, you scamp. Come here.”

 

Round the corner of the track, a young woman approached at a rush, wearing tattered jeans which were rolled up around the bottom to show off a pair of patterned wellies. Her top half was covered by a baggy white t-shirt which proclaimed 'I luv Argyll!', but showed off her slim though well proportioned figure. Dark hair, which was loosely tied back framed her heart-shaped face and her brown eyes twinkled with a mixture of warmth and mischievousness.

 

As she reached the two men, they could see she had a smear of muddy soil across her cheek and her voice when she addressed them was slightly husky. “Thank you for catching him,” she said smiling, while she knelt to slip a lead on the unrepentant dog who seemed to grin up at her, very pleased with his dash for freedom. “One moment he was in the garden with me and the next he's escaping.”

 

She looked up at Rhys through smoky eyelashes and his heart missed a beat. She was here. She was alive again. “Freya?” he almost stuttered, feeling he'd been pole-axed just as he had been when he was a boy. Since his chat with Will on Saturday, he'd been hoping she might return but the reality felt more amazing than anything he could have imagined.

 

The young woman stood, still keeping a tight rein on her dog. “Hello, Rhys.”

 

Drew watched the interaction between Rhys and the young woman. “I take it you two know each other?”

 

“You could say that,” she said, filling the gap since Merlin appeared to be struck dumb. “I'm Freya Campbell... Fiona's great-niece. We met once before.” She forbore to tell Drew just how long ago that before was. “It's nice to meet you again... Rhys.”

 

Telepathically, he heard a different name from Freya... _“Hello, Merlin.”_ He couldn't be sure if those words were real or just wishful thinking on his part, however, her words were accompanied by a smile which was both intimate and reassuring.

 

“Likewise!” Merlin stuck out his hand and was over the moon when Freya took it. Way to go, Merlin. Was that all he could manage after a thousand years or so? Especially since he'd dreamt of this meeting so many times. “I didn't realise you lived with Fiona.” He finally forced his brain into gear and spoke.

 

“Oh, I don't. I live on Seil, but I come over often to help Fiona with her garden. She likes to pretend she can't manage quite so well these days, though I think that's just an excuse for her to have me visit... which is silly, because I'd visit her anyway.”

 

She gave another quicksilver laugh which was music to Merlin's ears. In Camelot, he'd loved to make her laugh, but back then she'd had very little to smile about. On a rain-drenched night in the lower town, he'd found her in a cage of a bounty hunter, a terrified young Druid girl who was about to be handed over to Uther for execution. Merlin had followed his eager heart and rescued her without knowing of the terrible curse which dogged her. He'd tried so hard to save her, had even been willing to throw his destiny to the winds to run off with her, yet all his efforts had been in vain and Freya had died. This time around, he could only hope that her life was very different.

 

But Freya was talking again, interrupting Merlin's thoughts. “How do you like the house? Fiona and I thought it would be just the thing for you all.”

 

“Great!” Merlin pulled his racing thoughts together and nodded in generalization. His life had just improved one hundred percent. “The house is brilliant.” He laughed, wanting to tell her that she was brilliant too, but he had to remember that Drew was listening... which reminded him of his manners. “Freya, I'd like you to meet Drew Spears. He's our diver.”

 

Freya offered her hand to Drew, who took it, smiling in a friendly manner, but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Hi. Thanks for finding such nice digs for us... And I'm only one of the divers. Arthur knows his way around scuba gear.”

 

“But you're the professional,” Rhys insisted, feeling that Drew needed his ego massaging... just as long as he didn't transfer his unrequited feelings to Freya. Though he thought that was very unlikely. Lancelot had been the most loyal knight of them all and Rhys doubted that Drew would be able to forget his feelings for Gwen in the near future. To divert his mind from feeling sorry for his friend, he turned back to Freya. “We're just heading over to the quarry on the other side of the island, Freya. If you're a regular visitor, perhaps you've noticed some recent activity in the ponds.”

 

Freya moved in front of the two men to lead the way. “Come on, Rory. This way,” she called to the small dog before addressing Rhys and Drew. “The one you've just passed has been quiet for a few days, but the west one was boiling like a cauldron yesterday and the one on the Seil side of the island is bubbling away as we speak. I think it's working up to something pretty spectacular. We can take a quick look at this one then head over there, if you don't mind my help?”

 

“Of course not,” Merlin assured her. “We need all the help we can get... as long as you're not too busy.”

 

“Actually, I've taken a few days holiday from my job, and I've been puzzling over the causes of the turbulent waters ever since they started so I'd like to join your little band.” Freya pushed her hair back which the errant breeze had blown across her face.

 

“Do you know when the phenomenon actually started?” Drew asked, his curiosity well and truly hooked.

 

“The general consensus of the locals is that it began about five weeks ago, though some of these quarries are on islands which are uninhabited, so no one can put an actual date on the first time,” she declared as she walked along the narrow track, the men hurrying to keep up with her. In the deeper grass, Rory was like a little fur ball appearing and disappearing as he bounced along. “There's no denying that something is very wrong though.” Freya finished on a sigh.

 

Indeed, Freya's predictions were almost exact. The first and largest tarn appeared to have a bad case of the hiccups but, when they'd retraced their steps to the second quarry she'd mentioned, the surface of the water was seething while clouds of steam fogged the clear air.

 

They'd barely arrived when a huge water spout erupted near the edge causing Rhys to grab hold of Freya's arm and drag her back from the steep bank.

 

“God!” Drew cried and stumbled back as another vortex showered them with water.

 

Taking advantage of Freya's dropping his leash, little Rory squealed and raced back towards the village, while there was a collective cry of awe from the tourists who crowded around the sunken quarry. The unusual water turbulence had drawn many more visitors to the little island.

 

“Wow. I've never seen anything like that in this neck of the woods,” Drew added, shaking the water from his hair. “Geysers in Iceland and even in Yellow Stone Park, but they're sitting on top of volcanoes. I haven't heard of this happening in the UK.”

 

“Exactly, Drew. As far as we know, this is a first,” Rhys agreed, while his heart was brimming over with happiness to have Freya in his arms again. “Are you all right?” he asked her, reluctantly setting her back on her feet.

 

“I'm fine, just a bit wet,” Freya replied, almost letting her disappointment show when Merlin let her go. “We've really got to talk about this,” she added, pointing to the pond's surface which was still unnaturally rough. “But first I've got to find Rory and calm him down.”

 

“We can help with that,” Rhys said, offering Freya a hand to pull her up the small incline to the trail which led back to the houses. “And if you don't have any other plans, why don't you come back to Avalon with us and we can hold a round-table conference on what we should do next.”

 

A secret smile lit up Freya's eyes, letting Merlin know that she, like Fiona, was fully aware of their past lives. “I think that's a great idea. I've finished my work in Aunt Fiona's garden and she's not coming home tonight. She's staying with a friend in Oban and I've no plans for this evening. I think we need to share all the information we have on this problem and I'd like to meet Arthur and Guinevere.”

 

“Guinevere?” Drew frowned. “Aren't you taking this Arthurian legend business far too seriously? Her name's Gwen you know.”

 

For a second or two, Freya looked perplexed, but then she grinned again. “Of course it is. Don't mind me, Drew. That's the result of being brought up in the company of two old ladies who are obsessed with stories of the Once and Future King. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm living in the present and not the past.”

 

Her explanation appeared to satisfy Drew who, at that moment, spotted the tiny west highland terrier tearing round and round the lawn square in the centre of the village. “There's Rory,” he shouted as he took to his heels to catch up with the slightly hysterical little animal, all thought of myths and legends wiped from his mind.

 

Merlin and Freya stayed behind for a moment, their hearts and minds full of the feelings which had blossomed between them for a few short days so very long ago. As they gazed into each other's eyes, both understood that past and present had no meaning... there was only love.

 

“Hey! Rhys, Freya, catch him. He's heading back in your direction,” Drew cried out, having tried to rugby tackle the agile dog and missed.

 

They laughed. No matter what had brought them together again, the couple were overjoyed. Now they would have all the time in the world to explore those feelings. But, for the present, they split apart and took up the chase. Rory's tail was wagging like a demented flag in a gale as he tried to elude his owner and her new friends, his fright at being given an unexpected bath completely forgotten. Rory clearly thought this game of catch was fun and, now that Freya was back in his life, Merlin found himself in complete agreement with Rory.

 

After all the bleak centuries of loneliness, he found himself, momentarily, completely free from care. No matter what dangers beset him in the days and weeks ahead, he knew he had the abiding faith and support of the people who loved him.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy having two chapters posted in two days? If you let me know, I might hasten my posting schedule, if time allows me.


	16. The Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm away again this weekend, so I decided to post today. I've decided to post more frequently, if time and my hectic life permit. Hope you're liking this new time scale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now there are two couples and Drew is feeling a little left out...

Chapter Sixteen

 

The Right Time

 

 

Freya, Merlin and Drew, with Rory bundled in the back of the car, arrived back at Avalon to find both Arthur and Gwen sharing a coffee in the sun-lounge. Though both looked a little sheepish to have missed out on the planned trip to Easdale, their happiness was obvious to all.

 

Once the introductions had been made, Gwen offered to get everyone a drink of whatever they desired, but they all settled for coffee from the percolator. There had been an awkward moment when Arthur first set eyes on Freya and his unrelenting memory had taken him back to a stormy night in ancient times when he'd chased a young fugitive through the streets of Camelot. How before his very eyes he'd seen a scared, desperate woman change into a cornered beast and recalled how he'd wounded the animal. Rhys had since told him the injury had been mortal and it pained him now to meet this same woman in modern times, realising that both remembered that terrible night.

 

In the hustle of settling themselves down in the lounge, Arthur had whispered an apology which had been shyly accepted with a smile and a voice speaking inside his head.

 

“ _You did what had to be done, Arthur. I had to be stopped and, thankfully, Merlin had already saved my soul.”_

 

“ _Merlin's explained everything that happened back then. He told me you were cursed. You weren't responsible for what you'd become,”_ Arthur said with conviction.

 

“ _Perhaps not... but dying was my only escape from the curse. Between you and Merlin you gave me peace. You mustn't regret what you did. I have no recriminations.”_

 

“ _I think you're being very magnanimous. I'm not sure I could forgive so easily.”_ Though as he said these words, Arthur recalled he'd done exactly the same thing with Mordred. Perhaps everyone deserved a second chance until proved otherwise. He gave Freya a tiny smile. _“But I'm glad you feel that way. Perhaps this time you and Merlin can be together... unless the curse still...”_

 

Freya returned the smile. _“I'm free of curses in this time... so perhaps... yes.”_ Her eyes strayed to Merlin who was watching her and Arthur closely. _“I'd like that.”_

 

“ _He also told me you helped defeat Morgause's army of immortals. I thank you for that.”_

 

“ _I only explained that Excalibur could kill the undead and gave it back. Merlin, you and your knights did the rest. Besides, I was grateful to be able to repay Merlin for setting me free...”_

 

The telepathic conversation was interrupted by Gwen bringing the coffee as requested. “Milk and two sugars?” Gwen said presenting Freya with the mug.

 

“Yes, thanks. I really should dump the sugar, but I have a very sweet tooth.”

 

“And why not? You're as slim as a reed,” Gwen remarked, as the two woman shared a grin. Gwen found she was glad of the presence of another female in the midst of her male companions. “Unlike me who has to watch the calories.”

 

“I don't see why,” Arthur said disagreeing, his eyes taking in Gwen's curvaceous figure. “You always look terrific to me.”

 

“Yes, but you're biased,” she returned, her eyes sparkling before she went to finish dishing out the refreshments, her happiness overflowing when Arthur went to help her.  
  
By evening, it was clear that Gwen and Freya were fast becoming close friends. Though Gwen had never met Freya in their first incarnation, during her reign she'd persuaded Merlin to tell her the secrets of his early life in Camelot and she'd learned of his tragic love story. She'd listened with sorrow as he described how he'd fallen in love for the first time and lost Freya, all in the space of a few days. In Gwen's eyes, anyone who could win Merlin's affections must be a special person. Now, seeing Merlin and Freya together, she didn't doubt those feelings were blossoming again.

 

There was one person in the group, however, who seemed more than a little withdrawn. Drew was beginning to feel like the unwanted guest at the party. Though he couldn't say the others were actually ignoring him, he had the growing impression that they all knew something that he wasn't aware of.

 

It was a state of affairs which Arthur found unacceptable and wasn't prepared to allow to continue. He was soon addressing Merlin telepathically.

 

“ _Merlin, what are we going to do about Drew?”_ He tried not to look at Rhys and listened with one ear to the rest of the conversation, which it had to be said was an innocuous one about the countryside and the unusually warm weather. _“He doesn't understand what's going on, but I know him. He's not stupid and he knows there's something we're not telling him. I don't know about you, but I think we should come clean.”_

 

Rhys's eyes opened wide in surprise while his lips pursed. He hoped no one noticed his rather startled appearance, but the ladies were laughing at Rory who had taken a particular liking to a sheepskin rug and had now fallen asleep with his nose buried in its pile as he snored loudly, yet peacefully away. He couldn't be so sure of Drew though. When he glanced over at him, he found him staring blankly through the window, though Rhys had the strange feeling that Drew had switched his gaze quickly when he felt himself being observed.

 

“ _I thought we'd agreed that we should let people remember by themselves?”_ Merlin quirked an eyebrow at Arthur.

 

“ _We did. But it's messing with Drew's mind.”_ Arthur returned Merlin's questioning look with a steadfast stare. _“Clearly he's guessed we're holding something back... and he's my oldest friend... in this lifetime. He was once a very close friend to you. Surely you don't think it's better to keep him in the dark?”_

 

“ _Actually, I don't. I've been feeling bad about the whole thing, especially since this afternoon on Easdale. Besides, if you're starting diving tomorrow, it would be better if he knew that he's looking for enchanted artefacts, otherwise he might just ignore an ancient bracelet or amulet.”_

 

Arthur frowned slightly at that latter piece of information, but his level gaze held his warlock's.  _“Enchanted Artefacts! Your life is so strange... Sorry, Merlin. I'm not judging you. I'm still wondering how you got through it all, to tell the truth.”_ Subconsciously, he shook himself from his musings. “ _OK. So how are we going to do this?”_

 

“ _Firstly, I didn't have a choice. And secondly, that's your call. After all, you are the King.”_ Merlin smirked, trying to lighten a difficult situation. “ _And like you said, he is your friend in this life. I only met him a couple of days ago... sort of.”_

 

“ _Merlin!_ _You're the one with magic.”_ Even telepathically Arthur could convey his displeasure, but Merlin scowled at him, causing him to relent. _“Right. We'll do this together... but be ready to jump in when I need you.”_

 

Arthur stood up and went to stand by the window, the late setting sun behind him a glowing frame about his fair hair. He cleared his throat audibly and silence fell over the room after a few seconds, just as it would when he was chairing a meeting of the Round Table in Camelot.

 

“Thank you,” he acknowledged, Arthur's manners were less overbearing than when he was king. “I'd like to show my appreciation to all of you for being here, but I'd also like to address a problem... though perhaps that's not quite what it is. However, the situation is upsetting one of us who is not party to all the relevant facts.”

 

Once more he cleared his throat, while he gave his shoulders an infinitesimal shrug to release the tension which was building up in his soul. His clear, keen glance settled on Drew. “I'm sorry, Drew, but I'm sure you've become increasingly aware that we're hiding information from you... and it's true. It's not something I'm proud of... and I didn't mean to hurt, or insult you... but Merlin and I made the decision that our friends should be allowed to remember the past in their own time...”

 

“Past? What past?” Drew asked, his voice sharpening as he sat more erect in his chair. “I'm not sure what you're talking about, Arthur. I'm pretty certain I remember just as much of our childhood as you,” he added, though the last was said with just the tiniest hint of confusion.

 

“That's not the past I'm speaking of,” Arthur admitted, rather reluctantly.

 

Drew's shocked gaze scanned the rest of the people in the room. “What then? You suddenly believe in reincarnation, or something?” he asked, forcing out an incredulous laugh.

 

“That's exactly what I'm talking about. I also think you have an inkling, too.” Arthur took a step towards Drew, sensing he was about to hurt one of his dearest friends with the knowledge that he was once Lancelot, one of his most tragic of knights. Merlin wasn't the only one to acknowledge, with some annoyance, that the legends had misread the love-triangle. “I think I might be right when I say you're experiencing some wild imaginings... or even dreams?”

 

“How did you know?” It was pertinent that Drew didn't deny Arthur's words, yet his gaze was stark. “Even I haven't been able to make head nor tail of them, but I do feel you're all members of a secret society that I don't belong to. And I'm not talking about you both being couples,” he said somewhat bleakly.

 

“But you do belong... Lancelot.” Arthur, finally, dropped the name into the conversation. “You always did.”

 

“Lancelot!” The result was like a bomb-blast as Drew jumped to his feet. “Huh! Which Lancelot is that? Sir Lancelot? Like in the Knights of the Round Table? It would be funny if I couldn't tell when you were being serious.” He stared at Arthur defiantly, his brown-eyes gleaming like pieces of flint, though an edge of uncertainty had crept into his voice. “Why are you doing this? You know I'm Drew Spears.”

 

“Now you are. Yes. But you weren't always.” Arthur replied with a depth of understanding which belonged more to Arthur Penderel and less to the legendary king. Telepathically, he sent a desperate message to Merlin. _“Now would be a good time to jump in. He thinks I've gone mad!”_

 

Merlin gave Arthur a look which said he might not disagree with Drew's opinion, but he did come to his assistance. “Drew, what Arthur is trying to say is that each one of us has lived before many hundreds of years ago...”

 

“Except Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, not letting the warlock get away with his cheeky glance. “Merlin's just been around forever. Would you believe he has never died? He's Emrys, which means immortal.”

 

“It's true.” Merlin affirmed, his voice free from subterfuge. “I know it's hard to take in and we're bombarding you with all this crazy stuff, but we are telling you the truth.”

 

There was a long pregnant silence when a mouse could have crept across the floor and it would have sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants. Four pairs of eyes looked compassionately on Drew, waiting for him to speak.

 

“You're referring to the Arthurian Legends? Let me get this straight. You expect me to believe that he...” Drew pointed at Arthur while continuing, “is King Arthur and Gwen is Guinevere. Rhys is Merlin, who's over a thousand years old. I'm sorry Freya but I've no idea who you might have been.” Drew shook his head in disbelief, ignoring the weird sensation which was creeping through his conscience that this might actually be the truth. Abruptly, a thought struck him which wasn't wholly unpleasant. “Are you suggesting that in a past life Gwen and I had a love affair?”

 

“No!” Gwen said firmly, but not without sympathy.

 

“Definitely not!” Arthur echoed Gwen's sentiments, intent on quashing Drew's mistaken supposition. “No matter what the legends say, Guinevere was never unfaithful to me, or only once when she fell under Morgana's spell. I'll admit she had feelings for Lancelot, at first, before we had the chance to fall in love. But she did make her choice in the end and became my queen in every way.”

 

“What Arthur says is true.” Gwen rose and came to stand beside Arthur, though she bestowed a look full of solicitude on Drew. “I remember all of it now. I know that when we first met in bygone days I was drawn to you. You seemed to be everything I ever wanted in a man... kind, faithful and loyal to a fault. Only you left Camelot and, in the meantime, I learned to know Prince Arthur better. He wound his fingers around my heart and, apart for one small interlude when you rescued me from Hengist's stronghold, from that day to this, my soul has always been in his keeping. I have no idea why the legends got our love story so wrong, but we speak the truth.” Gwen's fingers entwined with Arthur's as they had in the citadel's courtyard centuries ago, when they had stood at Lancelot's bier. “I'm sorry Drew, we didn't mean to hurt you, neither then nor now.”

 

“Why are you telling me this fairytale?” Drew demanded, his temper beginning to boil.

 

“Because we must... and because keeping quiet was hurting you,” Arthur said, softly. “But Merlin can tell you the rest of it since it concerns magic... and he's the expert.”

 

Rhys cleared his throat and sent Arthur another exasperated look, while he spoke telepathically. _“I'm not sure he's ready to hear all this now. Perhaps we should wait till he's accepted who he once was.”_

 

“ _No. I don't think that's an option. Have you never heard of the band-aid theory? It's better to yank it off quickly than do it bit-by-bit.”_ Out loud, Arthur suggested, though it sounded more like a command, “Come on, Merlin. I really think Drew deserves to hear the whole truth. We start diving tomorrow. Drew needs to know what he's up against.”

 

Merlin's teeth worried his bottom lip characteristically, before he squared his shoulders and began. “Hard as this might be to believe, we have reason to think that magic is the source of the water turbulence.” Drew turned a sceptical eye on Rhys. “I know it sounds crazy, but magic really does exist... and not just the tricks and slight of hand you see on television or on stage shows. There aren't many who can practise it, but there are a few still out there. Unfortunately, they are people who are willing to use their powers for their own greed and gain. That's what we're up against... and it's probably the reason for the return of the Once and Future King.”

 

“Merlin, I think Drew's heard enough about reincarnation for one night. Stick to the point,” Arthur almost growled.

 

“Earlier tonight, you found a ring,” Merlin pointed out, obeying his friend and erstwhile king. “Even you recognised its antiquity. It once belonged to an ancient sorcerer called Cornelius Sigan, an enemy we once fought in the days of Camelot. Arthur and I believe he's returned and enchanted the waters to act as if a volcanic eruption could be imminent.”

 

“And why would he do that?” Still Drew clung to his cynicism. “Doesn't he know the volcanoes around here are extinct?”

 

“Probably, but he doesn't care... and you've already noticed that he's having some impact on the media.” This time Arthur answered. “What are his motives? Most likely greed, a need for power and because he has always been an enemy of Camelot. Once he hated the kingdom, now he's transferred his hostility to Camelot Industries. He maintains he was thwarted by The Pendragons... robbed of his just rewards and the passage of time hasn't drained his spleen. In his present form, which we have to admit we haven't yet discovered, he is adamant about destroying my family and our businesses.”

 

“Drew, he's using magic artefacts to control the raging waters,” Merlin said, aware that Arthur's history lesson was only entrenching Drew's distrust. “We told you all this because we wanted you to know what you'd be looking for in those quarries...”

 

Arthur quickly interrupted, “And because I couldn't bear to see the hurt look on your face when you realised something wasn't right. Drew, you're my friend. I wouldn't lie to you.”

 

“Nor would I,” Merlin corroborated Arthur's declaration. “I've only known you for a short time in this life, but you were once my close friend also. In fact, you were one of the few people who knew of my magic...”

 

Drew stepped back so quickly that he knocked over his chair. “You're mad! All of you! If you think I'm about to listen to this... nonsense, then you're wrong.” And with that statement ringing in their ears, he slammed out of the house.

 

Arthur made to follow him, but he was held back by Merlin saying, “Arthur, no. I think we have to give him some space to come to terms with all he's been told.”

 

“Merlin's right. I needed time, Arthur,” Gwen seconded Merlin's suggestion. “And I remembered on my own volition. It must be so much harder for Drew.”

 

“Do you think he'll come to terms with the truth?” A troubled Arthur asked as he watched Drew march away from the house.

 

“I think that now we've kick started his memories he will remember,” Merlin said with a grimace. “But unlike you and Gwen, Drew's recollections might not all be happy ones. Though I do believe he has enough strength to get past that.”

 

Arthur watched until his friend disappeared from view. “I agree. In both his lives, Drew has never lacked courage.”

 

With the exit of Drew, the tense atmosphere in the room eased, if only a little, prompting the women to suggest they were all in need of a drink. Gwen went to open a bottle of wine, while Freya found the glasses, proving that she knew her way around the house. Once they were seated again, Arthur raised his glass.

 

“A toast!,” he suggested, reminiscent of his days as king. “To the four of us reunited and to Drew's acceptance of his place among us...”

 

Merlin's eyes lit up as he smiled. “To Freya, who I dared not dream to find again.” He raised his glass to the young woman who blushed with pleasure, as he returned to the old courtly ways of love. “My lady, words can't express how much it means to have your presence back in my life again.”

 

Both Arthur and Gwen smiled on the couple who, for a short moment, had eyes only for each other. Then Gwen spoke. “And to our absent friends of Camelot. Hopefully, they'll return to us soon.”

 

“Amen to that,” echoed Arthur. “I've a feeling we'll need all the support we can get. I'll probably regret saying this, but I'd accept help even from Gwaine.” Merlin and Gwen laughed ruefully at his last statement, but the toasts weren't over.

 

“And to our success on Easdale tomorrow,” Merlin put in, his mind returning to the seriousness of the reason for their visit.

 

“If we have a diver,” Arthur said with an anxious edge to his voice. “I probably could do it on my own, but I'd much prefer having Drew's expertise.”

 

Gwen squeezed Arthur's hand. “You will. Drew will be back and he'll be willing to help. You'll see.”

 

The couple shared an intimate smile while Freya, sensing that all had been said, lifted her glass. “To the success of our mission... and for the love of Camelot!”

 

The others stared at her, wondering for a moment how she'd been aware of that battle cry, but then deciding that it didn't matter anyway.

 

“For the love of Camelot!” The three followed her toast, raised their glasses and drank.

 

 

*****

 

 

Not long after, Arthur recollected that it was time to check in with his mother again. Throughout the long day, the state of his father's health had never been far from his mind. He'd arranged earlier to Skype with his mother that evening and as the appointed time drew nigh, he asked Gwen if she'd accompany him, which she was only too happy to do. The two made their apologies and went off to his bedroom to talk to his mother.

 

Freya, suddenly feeling somewhat shy to be alone with Merlin, tidied away the glasses and, placing the empty bottle of wine in the recycle bin, stated her need to return home.

 

“Do you live far from here?” Merlin asked.

 

“Nothing in Balvicar is very far,” Freya answered, laughing. “Just a little way past the village shop. It's a fine evening and Rory and I will enjoy the walk.”

 

“Will you allow me to see you home?” Merlin asked a second question and waited with bated breath for Freya's reply.

 

She didn't disappoint him. “Thank you. I'd like that... wouldn't we, Rory?” Obviously the little animal had taken a liking for his mistress's new friend and his tale wagged with pleasure. “Just don't get lost on the way back,” she added, her heart singing with pure joy to be in Merlin's company again.

 

But her words caused Merlin to frown a little, though he moved toward the outside door. “I just hope Drew hasn't got himself lost. He's been away longer than I'd expected.”

 

“I doubt that, Rhys,” she said, surprising him with how she addressed him. “That is your name in this lifetime? I really ought to get used to using it, if I'm not to trip up in public. As for Drew, wasn't he a military man? I'm sure he's perfectly capable of finding his way back here.”

 

“Yes, he was,” Merlin concurred as they both walked out into the balmy summer night, so unusual for the Scottish climate, though it had to be said, the weather pattern was warming up. “Who knows, we might bump into him on our way to your house.”

 

Freya smiled with a hint of mischief. “Perhaps... but I hope not too soon.” She held out a hand to Merlin, and as he took it, a sense of rightness pervaded his soul. “There is so much I want to say to you, Rhys.” Freya placed the emphasis on his current name and Rhys instinctively prayed that she was writing the pages to a new beginning to their story.

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who left kudos and the reader who left a comment. I love to write, but hearing from readers that they appreciate my work is like the icing on the cake.


	17. Joy and Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm on my own tonight, so have decided to post another chapter while I have the time. I'm not sure I'll always manage to post quite as often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More promises for the future and revelations from the past in this chapter.
> 
> Casting spells is in bold and brackets and telepathy is in italics.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen

 

Joy and Sorrow

 

 

Walking through the village in the still of the night, the bats darting silently over their heads Merlin and Freya rejoiced in the quiet of the countryside.

 

“You got your wish,” Merlin said, eventually finding his voice. “A cottage by a lake...”

 

“That would be a loch,” Freya laughed, though it was a laugh full of teasing kindness.

 

“True.” Merlin couldn't help but join in, his spirit light with elation and with a strange sense of reclaimed youth.

 

“And believe me, the waves can threaten to swallow the village in the winter time.”

 

Remembering her words of long ago, they both laughed again before silence returned.

 

“What about your parents in this life time?” Merlin asked tentatively. Freya had been totally alone in Albion and he was afraid to resurrect fresh pain if history had repeated itself.

 

“My dad died a number of years ago. He'd been ill for a long time, so in a way it was a blessing.” Freya's foot swung at a stray stone in her path, suggesting she wasn't wholly sanguine about the loss of her father. “I do miss him, but you don't always get what you want in life.” She shrugged off her melancholy and smiled. “My mother is still alive. Actually, Fiona is her aunt, but it's too much of a mouthful to refer to her as Great-aunt Fiona. In fact, she prefers to be called Fiona.” Freya leaned in close to Merlin as if to confide a secret. “Fiona refuses to acknowledge her age. She's a remarkable lady.”

 

Merlin smiled again. He'd found himself doing that a lot since this afternoon. “I've only met her a couple of times in this life time and I totally agree. She recognised Arthur and me straight away.”

 

“Yes, she did. In fact, she remembers all her lives...”

 

“She's been reincarnated more than once?” Merlin asked, surprise spreading through his whole being.

 

“Oh, yes. According to Fiona there are some who've been granted a few rebirths, though she can't say who or indeed how many.”

 

“Have you, Freya?” At that thought, he sighed, sad that she'd perhaps lived without him knowing of her existence.

 

“Not me, Merlin. I'm not sure I would have wanted to live a number of times over, especially since I've been granted the occasional glimpse of the world from my vantage point as Lady of the Lake.” Freya stared out over the dark water, silver tipped from the light of a new moon, her face averted from Merlin to hide her tears. “Sometimes I saw you, Merlin. I watched you grow old... more than once and my heart bled for you. It must be hard to live forever.”

 

“There were good and bad times.” Merlin shrugged but refused to expand on the disadvantages of immortality. Instead, he stepped in front of her, halting her progress. “To tell the truth, I'd rather not dwell on the pain... not now.” He placed a gentle hand beneath her chin and raised her face. “Not now that I have you back in my life. Don't cry for me, Freya. I'd rather we made each other happy.”

 

“You still want me after all this time?” Freya bit nervously at her lip.

 

“Do you need to ask?”

 

“Yes! Merlin, we hardly knew each other. We only spent three days together and in dangerous circumstances.”

 

“Are you saying you didn't feel anything for me during these days?” Merlin's head tilted to the side, trying to read Freya's guarded expression. “I know I could have loved you... I feel the same now.”

 

“Oh, I cared, Merlin. I cared so much,” Freya said quickly, at last gazing directly into his eyes to assuage the hurt look which had appeared on Merlin's face. Her own eyes were awash with tears... of love... of regret. “I'd never met anyone who looked after me the way you did. You made me feel special. You made me feel wanted... and my heart went out to you. How could it not? You're an amazing person. But we were both so young and I knew I didn't have long to live. If Arthur hadn't dealt the fatal blow, I would have died on Uther's pyre. Instead, I died in your arms by the side of a lake. For a fleeting moment, I wished I could have lived on for you, though I knew it wasn't to be. You gave me a glimpse of happiness and a peaceful end and I thank you for that.”

 

“But it's not the end now, Freya. It could be a beginning if you want it. My feelings haven't changed,” Merlin stated, taking both her hands within his gentle grasp. “If the Lady of the Lake has watched me down through the centuries then she must know I've never really loved another.”

 

Finally, a smile touched Freya's heart-shaped face. “I'd always hoped, but I wanted to give you the choice.”

 

Merlin slipped a hand into the soft hair at the nape of Freya's neck and slowly drew her closer, giving her the chance to pull away. His breath hitched in his throat as he waited for the rejection which didn't happen. Instead, Freya's eyes closed, her long lashes lying dark on her pale skin and her lips parted at the moment Merlin's mouth came down on hers.

 

Their second kiss. Often he'd wondered if he'd only imagined the miraculous sensation of Freya's lips opening under his own, but they'd been so inexperienced and naive and their first kiss had been almost tentative. Now nothing could have prepared him for the myriad of emotions that raced through his being. He felt amazement that she still cared for him and a rush of tenderness, the need to protect her from evil in this life. But mostly, he was overwhelmed by the hot thrill of passion which swept through his veins and set all his nerve ends tingling. Merlin had experienced a couple of relationships many hundreds of years before, but both had been mere shadows compared to his love and desire for this young woman who pressed so close to his body.

 

When they drew back, both were breathing hard, as if they'd been swept away by a tidal wave of love and longing. They held each other's gaze, their hands clinging to each other's shoulders, almost needing the support to stay upright.

 

Merlin was the first to regain the power of speech and he only managed to gasp, “Freya, my love...” All his conscious thoughts were lost in the depths of her brown eyes, shadowed now by the twilight sky. He dared to smile. “I'm almost too afraid to believe fate has granted us this second chance.”

 

Freya returned his smile, her soft lips curving in a perfect bow. “Believe, Merlin. Perhaps I'm only wishful thinking, but I'm certain that this time we can be together... but we can take it slowly, if you prefer.”

 

“My body tells me no... yet, my heart wants to pay court to you.” Merlin grinned ruefully. “Forgive this very old man, but I've almost forgotten what it means to love a woman and I so desperately want to get this right.”

 

“Rhys! Look at you. You're not old.” Freya reached up and stroked her fingers through his thick raven black hair. “I've no idea how you've managed to do it, but somehow... some way you've retained the same innocence you had when first we met... and I think it's amazing. I'm so much looking forward to getting to know you better.”

 

“I hope you like what you discover,” Merlin said doubtfully. “I've done some things in my life that I'm not proud of.”

 

But Freya would not be dissuaded. “Haven't we all. And you've had so much longer than most, but I doubt you've done anything too terrible. You're a good person, Merlin, and nothing you can tell me will change my mind. Aren't you here in Easdale to defeat evil sorcery?”

 

“That does seem to be the plan,” he admitted with a rueful grin.

 

Freya smiled in return. “Then this time we'll do it together.” She let her hands slip down Merlin's arms till they entwined with his. “But it's late now and I do have a job to go to tomorrow.”

 

“I'd forgotten to ask what it is that you do?” Rhys said apologetically, but he didn't mind letting the real world intrude on this romantic moment. They had time to explore their feelings.

 

“I'm a veterinary nurse. My base is in Oban, but we've a local clinic tomorrow here on Seil, which means I'll be able to join you fairly soon after I finish work. But I do have an early start in the morning.” Freya stopped at a small cottage which reminded Merlin of his home near Glastonbury, though this one looked more loved, with roses round the door and a small, well tended garden out front. “This is where I live. It's small, but it suits Mum and me... and Rory.”

 

In the moonlight, the house and garden took on a magical quality and Merlin smiled. It was just the type of house in which Merlin imagined Freya would live. “It looks lovely... and I'm sure it's just as nice inside.”

 

“I would ask you in, but I do have to be up at seven tomorrow and it's getting late. I hope you don't mind if we say goodnight here. I promise to invite you in next time to meet my mother,” she added, a little nervously, wondering if it were too soon to be asking him home to meet her one surviving parent. After all, they'd just agreed to take their relationship one step at a time.

 

“Of course, Freya. I'd like to meet your mum, but go on...” He waved his hand in the direction of the door. “And I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. We'll be somewhere on Easdale.”

 

At that, Freya's smile widened. “Don't worry. I'll find you. It's not as if Easdale is a teeming metropolis.” With a quick look around her, she called Rory who scampered up the path ahead of her, then she turned up her face and waited for what she hoped would be a goodnight kiss.

 

Merlin didn't disappoint, though this time his kiss was warm and tender, a promise of more to come. “Good night, Freya. Sleep well.” He couldn't resist another caress of her lips. She looked so lovely in the light of the moon. “Till tomorrow.”

 

He started walking backwards as he watched her stride up the path, but his feet hit a large boulder hidden in the wild grasses at the side of the road. He used a quick burst of magic to right himself, causing Freya to laugh softly.

 

“ _Night, Merlin.”_ she whispered inside his head, her husky voice sending his nerves tingling again.

 

“ _Night, Freya,”_ he answered with a grin and hummed a little off key as he wandered down the road back to Avalon, hoping that he wasn't too besotted to find his way home.

 

 

*****

 

 

Merlin hadn't gone far when he spotted a lone figure down by the water's edge. The person was tall and stood straight-backed yet, for all that, there was something forlorn about his bearing. Merlin didn't need magic to know that he'd found Drew. Without a second thought, he turned his steps towards the loch-side.

 

He made no sound as he moved on quiet feet, though he could tell by the way Drew's head lifted sharply towards the stars that he knew of his approach.

 

“You don't have to tiptoe, Rhys, or should I call you Merlin?” Drew said without looking round.

 

“Whichever you're comfortable with is fine by me.” Rhys strode closer till his shoes were almost touching the gentle swell of water. “Searching for answers?” he continued, trying to keep his tone light, yet wasn't sure he succeeded.

 

Drew gave a derogatory bark of laughter before replying. “What answers?” he asked, over his shoulder. “I'm not certain there are any plausible answers to my questions.”

 

“I can prove there is magic, if you'd let me,” Merlin stated, then waited, but when Drew refused to answer, he held out his hand till it was in Drew's line of sight.

 

**(Forbearnan!)**

 

Opening his fist, a bright flame danced on Merlin's palm, red-gold against the silvered waves. He held it for some moments before letting it die.

 

“Slight of hand, I think you mentioned back at the house,” Drew said, though his earlier scepticism wasn't so apparent.

 

Merlin shrugged. “All right. Let's try something else.”

 

**(Ic i abene Vilia.)**

 

For some seconds nothing seemed to happen, then, amazingly, large globules of water rose from the loch, dancing in the air in front of the two men while a golden glow surrounded them. Drew stepped back in astonishment, but he couldn't deny there were pretty faces of females captured within the bubbles.

 

One floated closer to Drew and a warm voice called out, “Lancelot. Lancelot.”

 

Drew's breath caught in his throat and he had to force himself to remain standing. Had he fallen asleep by the loch and was dreaming? The lady encapsulated within the bubble smiled before turning to address his companion.

 

“Merlin, you summoned us and we came, gladly. Do you need our help?”

 

“Thank you for appearing so promptly.” Merlin bowed his head to the leader of the Vilia. “And I would be grateful for your aid. In this life, Lancelot doesn't believe in magic, nor in reincarnation. I hoped that your presence might remind him of his earlier life.”

 

The lady's eyes twinkled. “Perhaps we can convince him. Lancelot,” she repeated, her voice sounding like music to Drew's ears and taking him back to a place he wasn't sure had ever existed. “Lancelot, we are the Vilia, spirits of the brooks and streams and we bear you no harm. We appeared before you in a past life to take care of you and the young warlock. We kept you safe from the Dorocha, the spirits of the dead. Open your mind and you will remember.”

 

With the gilded mist drifting around his head, Drew felt his present surroundings recede, transforming into a wooded dell. As if in a dream, he saw himself lift Merlin from his mount and carry him to a stream where he removed his cape to throw over his sick friend. Gone were his modern clothes and in their place was a suit of knight's chainmail over which he'd worn the voluminous red cloak. Stitched into the material was the famous gold badge of a dragon... sigil of Arthur Pendragon.

 

There was no denying it. He, Drew Spears, had once been Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot.

 

The acknowledgement sent him reeling, and he would have fallen if Rhys hadn't grabbed him. But he wasn't Rhys. He was Merlin, his friend from a time long ago who had magic.

 

“Are you OK?” a worried Merlin asked.

 

“I think so,” he replied, though the tremor in his voice contradicted his words. “Just give me a minute. It's not every day you realise you were a member of the original Round Table.”

 

“Merlin.” The woman's voice interrupted. “I believe we have done our job and it's time for us to return to our natural state. I wish you well with your present quest... and if we can help, do not be afraid to call on us.”

 

“Thank you,” Merlin answered, his head bowing once more. “I know how difficult it is for you to manifest yourselves so. Your intervention was very successful, but farewell for the present.”

 

The water droplets returned to the loch and the glow faded, leaving Drew and Merlin standing by the shore, both feeling somewhat awed by what had just happened. There was a long moment of silence between the two, the only sounds the lapping of the waves and an owl hooting as it hunted in the night.

 

“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” Merlin asked again, noticing Drew's pale face and the slightly haunted look in his eyes.

 

“To be honest, I'm not sure. I can't get my brain around the fact that I lived a whole other life so long ago. How do you do it, Rhys... I mean, Merlin?” Drew shook his head in frustration.

 

“No! No. Rhys is fine. I answer to either,” Merlin ended with an experimental grin. He wasn't certain Drew had accepted his past with equanimity, however, there was no harm in doing a little friendly prying. “Do you remember the time you faced the griffin? That was pretty scary because I wasn't sure my magic was powerful enough to help you defeat it.”

 

“But I didn't defeat the griffin. You did... with magic!”

 

“That's not totally true,” Merlin disagreed. “I enchanted the lance, but you were the one who wielded it. Together we destroyed the beast.” He waited while allowing this information to sink into Drew's head, still unsure if he recalled the whole story. “Like I told you before, you were the first person in Camelot, apart from Gaius, who knew I had magic. Just as you promised, you kept my secret and I was grateful to have a friend who accepted me for all that I was...”

 

“Did Arthur ever discover you had magic?” Drew cut in, seemingly unwilling to discuss the close friendship the two had once shared.

 

Merlin blanched and Drew realised he'd hit a soft spot. Yet Merlin answered, albeit quietly, “Yes... but only a couple of days before he died. Like the legends tell, Arthur was mortally wounded at the Battle of Camlann. I tried so hard to save him, but I didn't get him to The Isle of Avalon in time and my own magic was useless. He died in my arms.”

 

Though the sorrow was an old one, the stark light of the moon revealed the tears that filled Merlin's eyes, prompting Drew to add quickly, “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

 

“No. That's fine. I think you deserve to know. Those two days gave Arthur a chance to come to terms with my magic. In the end he forgave me for my subterfuge... and he thanked me for all I'd done for him and Camelot. He died at peace with the world. I was the one who railed against fate.”

 

Drew stared into the darkness, sensing that Merlin needed time to regain his composure, but after a few moments of silence, he felt emboldened to go on. “I'm sorry you never got to fulfil your destiny to return magic to Camelot.”

 

“But I did!” Merlin said excitedly. “Guinevere understood Arthur better than anyone and she knew what would be in his heart. She lifted the ban on magic.”

 

“Guinevere ruled Camelot?” Drew asked, as his forehead wrinkled in thought.

 

“Yes.” Merlin nodded his head, though his thoughts turned inward. “Arthur named her as his successor before he died. She was a good sovereign too. Though the people mourned Arthur with all of their hearts, they came to love Guinevere as a wise and fair queen. She never remarried and when she died, the Pendragon Dynasty was no more. Camelot was attacked from all sides and The Dark ages fell upon the land...” Merlin gave himself a mental shake. “But I'm sure you don't need a history lesson.”

 

“Then Arthur and Gwen were telling the truth and I never had an affair with Guinevere?” Drew's question came fast and eager. It was clear he wanted to believe that Guinevere had loved him.

 

“Not exactly...” Merlin said, wondering how much to reveal. Drew's memories were clearly limited and would he recall his time as a shade anyway? Merlin decided to err on the side of caution. “Morgana enchanted both you and Gwen and one night you had an assignation. I don't know how far things would have gone... You were interrupted by Arthur. His uncle was in league with Morgana and he'd brought him to witness Guinevere's betrayal. You and Arthur fought, but Gwen put a stop to it by throwing herself between you...”

 

“I have some recall... but I can't remember any of this...” Drew's voice died away as he shrugged, totally perplexed.

 

“Perhaps because you were under a spell. Neither you nor Gwen were in your right minds.”

 

“What happened next?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Merlin continued, though he wished Drew wasn't so inquisitive, “You were both arrested and cast into the cells. Betraying a king like that was a criminal act back then...”

 

“Punishable by death, I would imagine,” Drew suggested bleakly.

 

“That's true. But Arthur was never vindictive, though his council advised him to have Guinevere put to death.” Here Merlin halted. It hurt him to relive those terrible few days, despite them being so many centuries ago. “He refused, of course, and banished her instead.”

 

Drew walked a few feet away, rejecting Merlin and the thought that he had been responsible for Gwen's fall from grace. “I caused Gwen all that hurt? I remember I loved her, but I never meant to cause her pain. What was I thinking?”

 

“That's the whole point. You weren't thinking... and neither was Gwen.” Merlin edged a little nearer to Drew, but stopped a few feet away. He hoped to get past this incident and move onto more positive memories, but it looked like Drew might bolt at any minute. “Both of you were under Morgana's influence. She couldn't bear to see Guinevere sit on her throne and so she used you to sever Arthur and Gwen's betrothal.” He moved a few more steps until he was almost within touching distance of Drew's back. “If it helps any, she didn't succeed. They found each other again and Arthur forgave her. Actually, he decided that it didn't matter what had gone before, he just needed her in his life. They married and Gwen became his queen, as he'd always wanted. It was a truly happy marriage, until the day he died. So you see, you didn't cause Gwen any permanent hurt.”

 

“What happened to me?”

 

And there it was, the question Merlin dreaded. The silence between the two men was palpable.

 

Drew swung round. “OK. I've already guessed that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. Just tell me.”

 

“Unfortunately, you were still under Morgana's control. Agravaine, Arthur's uncle, brought you a letter in which Morgana commanded you to end your life. You killed yourself.” Merlin chose not to mention that Lancelot was a shade at the time and that he'd already sacrificed his life a year or so earlier. That was a confession for another day.

 

A frown appeared on Drew's brow as he tried desperately to recall Merlin's story. He was beginning to remember, but of this time there was nothing... only a pit of darkness. Suddenly, a picture blossomed in his mind, as clear as day.

 

He saw a sunlit lake with a boat full of flowers bobbing on its surface holding the body of a man dressed all in black. He was the dead man... but no, he couldn't have been dead, as the figure gasped and turned towards the young man standing knee deep in water.

 

Merlin! He had thanked Merlin for giving him back his soul!

 

Drew... or Lancelot, he was no longer sure, gazed on the same strained face that had leaned over him as he lay in the boat. At last, Drew spoke. “You gave me a funeral at the Lake of Avalon?”

 

“It was Arthur's orders,” Merlin hunched his shoulders, looking a little abashed.

 

“But you would have done it anyway. Wouldn't you, Merlin?”

 

“Of course.” An irreverent grin stole over Merlin's face. “You know me. I never do as I'm told.”

 

“Now that I do remember!” Drew offered his hand which Merlin shook enthusiastically. The two shared a congenial laugh, acknowledging the fact that, despite the revelations, they were companions still.

 

“Come on. Let's go home,” Merlin suggested, starting to head back along the water's edge, while Drew fell into step beside him.

 

“So, Merlin, what's it like to be fifteen hundred years old?” Drew asked, suddenly feeling a lightness in his soul. “No, don't answer that. I'm sure you're pretty much as energetic and incorrigible as you were in Camelot days, but you can tell me why we've all been reincarnated.”

 

“I wish I could, but we don't know exactly.” Merlin picked his way, carefully, back towards the road, thankful that the moon was full, since the street lighting was practically non-existent. There was the occasional slant of light from the houses they passed, but most were now in darkness. “We do know that Camelot Industries is under attack by a rival company, though we're not certain which one... Mind you, Sigan Fuels seems like a good bet, since it's fairly likely Cornelius Sigan has arisen again. Unfortunately, we don't know his present identity, but we believe he is in cahoots with Morgause... but that's just a guess, since we haven't encountered her yet.”

 

“The Morgause who was Morgana's sister?”

 

“Well, half sister,” Merlin said. “But, unfortunately, we're not totally sure who she is in this life either. However, we do have someone back in Cardiff who's trying to track her down.”

 

Drew made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “So, no change there. The odds are stacked against us again.”

 

Giving Drew a nudge with his elbow, Merlin conceded with a smirk, “But that doesn't mean we won't win. In fact, Camelot won most battles that way. We like a challenge. It brings out the best in us and I can't see any reason why things will be different this time.”

 

“That's what I like about you, Merlin.” Drew's genuine laughter filled the quiet night. “You're always the optimist! Where would we be without you on our side?”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to know your thoughts, so if you have time, please let me know.


	18. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably posting a little later than I expected, but still ahead of the original schedule. Please enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More characters from the past are surfacing and not all wish our friends well.
> 
> Again, spells are typed in bold and within brackets.

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

Lost and Found

 

 

As the two men reached the end of the road, their affable mood disappeared. It was late and Merlin expected Avalon to be in darkness. Instead, all the lights were ablaze.

 

“Something is wrong!” Merlin announced as he picked up the pace.

 

They ran the last few yards to the door and burst inside to find Arthur pacing and Gwen watching him as she sat on the edge of the couch, her hands twisting nervously.

 

“What's happened?” Merlin asked, sliding to a halt. “Is it your father?”

 

Arthur turned towards the voice, his lips compressed in a tight line which relaxed slightly when he saw Merlin. “No. My father seems to be holding his own... At least, he isn't any worse, though he hasn't regained consciousness again. His doctor tells me that's to be expected and I shouldn't worry unduly,” he added, somewhat doubtfully, before adding, “To tell the truth, there's some good news about his doctor, but I'll get to that later. What's causing us concern is the fact that my mother hasn't been able to talk to Anna yet.”

 

“She hasn't heard from her at all?” Drew asked in surprise, remembering how close Arthur's sister had been to Benedict Penderel. Growing up, she'd been her daddy's girl. “That's unlike Anna! I expected her to return the moment she heard of your father's illness.”

 

“Your mother hasn't managed to contact her today?” Though Merlin hadn't met Anna yet, it was clear by everyone's reaction that the young woman was acting out of character.

 

“Not a word... apart from a couple of texts explaining that she's working on something important and will get back to her in due time.”

 

“And Ygraine has told her how ill Benedict is?” The question came from Drew, causing Arthur to frown, while Gwen answered for him.

 

“Of course she has.” Gwen stood and took hold of Arthur's hand. “I don't understand Anna's conduct. In fact, I know she wouldn't be so callous. Something has happened to her. It's the only explanation, Arthur.”

 

“I wish I could disagree.” Arthur tightened his hold on Gwen, once again slipping into the easy habit of relying on her support. “I'd give anything to hear that Anna's walked into the hospital... but I doubt that's going to happen.”

 

As if on cue, Arthur's mobile started ringing and he dashed to pick it up, but his face fell when he heard a voice he didn't recognise for a moment. The others watched him intently.

 

“Oh, Matthew, hello. This is pretty late to be calling... unless you have news?” Arthur laid his phone on a small table and switched to audio so his friends could listen to the conversation.

 

“As a matter of fact, I do. I haven't traced Morgause yet, but I did find a picture of your sister online.”

 

“Anna?”

 

“Yes.” Matthew sounded somewhat confused. “You do have only one sister?” But when Arthur didn't answer, the young researcher continued. “It was in one of the online French newspaper's socialite columns. You know what the French paparazzi are like. The caption reads... and this is my interpretation... 'Anna Penderel lunches out at The Park Hyatt in Paris'. If you put a search in, I'm sure you'll find it. I only came upon it by chance because I think I've tracked one of Morgause's IP addresses to Paris. I'm still not sure if there's a connection, but I thought you ought to know.”

 

“Thank you.” Arthur's brow drew down further as he looked first at Gwen then Merlin and Drew. “Under the circumstances it's possible there is a link. Did this article say any more? About what she was doing, or who she was with?”

 

“Sorry. There's only a small blurb, but your sister looked like she was dressed for a date... and there was someone in the background who might have been heading for her table since your sister appeared to be smiling a welcome, but the rest of the picture was unclear. I tried cleaning it up, but I still couldn't make out who the woman was and she had her head turned away from the camera.”

 

“But it was a woman?”

 

“Definitely. And I'd swear she was blonde. Looked like the model type.”

 

Arthur slipped his free hand into his hair and his lips compressed while he thought for a moment. It seemed a long shot, but the mysterious female was blonde and slender which could fit the description of Morgause. “Matthew, can you access The Hyatt's computers? Find their guest lists... either who stays there on a regular basis, or dines there frequently? See if you can tie a name to the general description of that woman?”

 

There was silence as Matthew considered his chances before he spoke, clearly confident of his computing skills. “I think I could manage that. And I take it you want me to get onto it immediately.”

 

“You're right again. Sorry to keep you working so late, but since no one seems to know where my sister is, tracing her last known movements is crucial.”

 

“I'll get back to you as soon as I have any news. Oh, and Arthur, I was sorry to hear about your father.”

 

Nodding, Arthur replied. “Thanks on both counts. I'm told my father appears to be stable for now, which is all that can be expected. Goodnight, Matthew.”

 

He leaned down and closed the call, watching as Gwen quickly retrieved her tablet and typed in a search for pics of Anna Penderel. Almost immediately, all four were staring at the photo Matthew had mentioned.

 

For a few seconds, no one said anything, until Drew couldn't keep quiet any longer. “You think this woman who... might have been meeting Anna, or not... is Morgause from a millennium and a half ago? You can't make out who that is... and I have very good eyesight.”

 

“Not in the normal way,” Merlin gave a tiny grin. ( **Sceawian andgithullice!)** he commanded, his eyes flashing gold.

 

Much to the others' surprise, the image firmed in the frame and there could be no doubt any longer.

 

“Morgause!” Merlin announced.

 

“Eloise Blessed!” Arthur straightened, his hand subconsciously dropping to an imaginary Excalibur.

 

“You know her?” Drew asked again, sensing the tension in his friends. “In this life time, I mean?”

 

“Sort of. Let's say we sometimes mix in the same social circles.” He stood back, looking slightly puzzled. “But why didn't I make the connection before?”

 

“Because Arthur Penderel didn't know Morgause. Arthur Pendragon does,” Merlin explained.

 

Giving a tiny grunt of understanding, Arthur suddenly seemed animated. “Talking of The Pendragons brings me to the one positive thing that happened tonight. Merlin, you might want to sit down for this.” He gestured to one of the comfy lounge chairs, which Merlin sat in, though he stared at Arthur guardedly. “Merlin, you've probably been wondering who else has been reborn and I'm also sure you've been searching for one particular person, apart from Freya that is...” Arthur drew in a deep breath. “I should probably just come right out and tell you that... we've found Gaius.”

 

For a moment, Merlin seemed spellbound, then he leapt to his feet, his voice jumping an octave as he asked, “You have? Wow! Where is he... and can I go to see him?”

 

“He's in Cardiff. At Cardiff and Vale to be precise. He's a doctor again. Actually, my father's doctor in the Stroke Unit, Dr Richard Grayson. Gwen and I met him on Skype tonight when we talked to my mother.”

 

A feeling of amazement, accompanied by a sense of home-coming rushed through Merlin's body. “Does he know?”

 

“He does, but not until four or five years ago. He said he started having dreams and visions of another life. At first, they confused him, but then he began to believe he'd lived before. Once he'd accepted that, it seems his memories came back almost completely,” Arthur said, wondering how he could possibly prevent Merlin from running back to Cardiff to see Gaius. It was his right, but they needed him here.

 

Yet Arthur needn't have worried. “Can I talk with him?”

 

“Merlin, I'm sorry.” Arthur stepped forward and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. “Dr Grayson is quite an elderly man and he's been at the hospital since my father was taken there early this morning. He was disappointed you weren't here when Gwen and I spoke to him, but he was very tired and thought it best he went home to sleep. He suggested you wait till morning to talk with him. I'm sorry, Merlin. You've waited a long time to be reunited with Gaius. Are you alright to wait a little longer?”

 

Though Merlin's shoulders drooped downheartedly, he did nod. “Of course I can. After all these years a few more hours won't hurt and I know Gaius deserves his sleep.” He stood up and looked at his friends. His life had changed drastically since the day he'd watched Arthur striding through the rain to find him. Before that, he'd had only Will for company, and though he was fond of Will, his friend was unaware of his secret. Will could never comprehend the loneliness of Merlin's strange life.

 

Everything was different now. He didn't feel alone. The best friend in his whole life, all the long years of it, had returned. Arthur was back and he was only the first. Now there was Gwen and Drew who remembered Camelot, and his first love, Freya. How could he not believe he had everything he ever wanted? But now he'd found Gaius, too.

 

“Come on,” Arthur said, putting an arm around Merlin again. “It's been a really long day and we should all try to get some sleep. Morning will come soon enough and we want to get an early start. We've a lot of quarries to search... and you, Merlin, can start the day by chatting to Gaius.”

 

A wide, beaming smile lit up Merlin's face at that thought. “I look forward to that. But you're right, we do need to get some rest.”

 

The four friends walked slowly towards their bedrooms, Merlin and Drew climbing the stairs while Arthur stopped to say goodnight to Gwen. Arthur and she had reached an understanding that, while they resided under the same roof as Lancelot, they wouldn't share each other's bed. Somehow they both felt it would be unfeeling of them. Yet there could be no doubt that three of the inhabitants of Avalon went to bed in a romantic glow, while Drew now understood his place in this world and the last.

 

 

*****

 

 

The next morning, Merlin woke with the lark but, when he rushed downstairs, he found himself bested by Arthur. The fair haired man was sitting at the kitchen table, already logged into his laptop and chatting with his mother.

 

“Morning, Merlin,” he said, looking up and pushing a hand through his still bed-tousled hair. “Come say hello to my mother.”

 

Merlin hid a grimace. Why couldn't the dollop-head still be a late riser? He'd wanted to get onto Skype first to speak to Gaius. Yet, despite his disappointment, he did manage a quick hi to Ygraine.

 

The lady returned his greeting with a tired smile before addressing her son again. “Arthur, I'm sorry, but you have to be patient. Your father will wake in his own time and, meanwhile, he continues to remain stable.”

 

“You're sure he's no worse?” Arthur asked, his voice sharpened with anxiety.

 

“Quite sure. I spent the night here in the hospital. Richard was kind enough to arrange it for me, and he tells me that your father is as well as can be expected.” There was a pause as Ygraine considered her words carefully. “Arthur, you do realise that his recovery will be a long and slow process... and there are no guarantees that he'll ever get back to his old self?”

 

Arthur's voice wobbled as he spoke, “But there is still a chance?”

 

“It's much too soon to tell,” Ygraine heaved a sigh. “According to the medical team, I think we have to prepare for your father always having some disabilities.”

 

The door behind Ygraine opened while she was speaking and Arthur noticed Dr Grayson enter the room. “Is that Arthur?” the elderly doctor asked, coming to stand close to Ygraine, in full view of the camera. “Morning, Arthur. You'll be happy to know that I've just come from seeing Benedict and there are signs that he's regaining consciousness.” He turned his attention to the woman at his side. “Ygraine, perhaps you'd like to go and visit with him. I'm sure he'd love to see you by his side when he wakes.”

 

“Yes! Yes, I would,” she agreed, her eyes regaining some brightness, her voice sounding less weary. “Arthur, I have to go. I'll give Dad your love. Goodbye for now.” She pressed a finger to her lips then touched the screen over Arthur's face. “I'll talk to you later and you can tell me all about your adventures on Easdale, but be careful, my dearest. I don't think I could stand that anything bad should happen to you, too.”

 

Ygraine pushed up from her chair as Arthur called, “Goodbye, Mum. Tell Father I love him and I'll be back to see him soon.”

 

Dr Richard Grayson settled himself in the vacated chair, smiling encouragingly at Arthur. “I'm sure your father will look forward to seeing you, but he wants you to fix the problem on Easdale first, Sire,” Gaius said without thinking, rousing a disparaging laugh from Arthur.

 

“I'm not a sire any longer, Gaius, and to tell the truth, I'm very happy about that fact. So, please continue to call me Arthur.”

 

“And I'm not Gaius this time around either, but I expect we'll both make mistakes with our names by and by.”

 

Arthur grinned again. It was somehow comforting to recognise Gaius's speech patterns in Dr Grayson.

 

“Arthur, your mother was correct about Benedict. I'm afraid he has a long, hard journey ahead of him to regain his health. The brain scans we've done show a lot of damage, which is why I can't give you any assurances that he'll make a complete recovery. However, your mother tells me he's a very determined person and that's good. Very often it's how much a person is prepared to work on their physiotherapy treatment which determines the level of success.”

 

“If that's the case, then I'm sure my father will be back to normal...”

 

“My boy,” Dr Grayson interrupted quickly. “I didn't say a full recovery. I meant to infer the level of disability.” He stopped quickly, seeing a look of dejection darken Arthur's expression. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to disappoint you, but I don't want you to expect a miracle either.”

 

Giving himself a mental shake and being increasingly aware of Merlin fidgeting beside him, Arthur's tone lightened. “But miracles do sometimes happen, Dr Grayson, especially if you have this person for a friend. And, speaking of Merlin, I think I'd better hand the screen over to him before he turns me into a toad. I'm sure you're just as eager to speak to him. Thank you for taking care of my mother as well as my father, Dr Grayson.”

 

“Didn't we agree that you would call me Richard?” the older man remonstrated. “Think nothing of it. I'm happy to be able to help such old friends.” Though Gaius could hardly contain his anticipation in seeing Merlin, he still had some advice for Arthur. No doubt the young man was just as courageous as ever. “I wish you well in your efforts today, but I'd like to add a word of caution, too. You're dealing with powerful sorcery and even though you have Merlin on your side, you need to be vigilant.”

 

“We will be, but before I'm thrown out of this seat, I'll hand you over to the person you came here to meet.” Arthur rose and ushered Merlin into his chair. “Would you like some coffee, Merlin?”

 

“I'd rather have tea, but knowing your skills, I'll settle for coffee.” And with that final word to Arthur, Merlin turned, almost anxiously, toward the tablet. Suddenly, time for him reeled backwards and he was once again a teenage boy stepping into the physician's chamber in Camelot for facing him was his much loved guardian. “Gaius!”

 

Then words failed him as a joyous grin spread over his face. Dr Richard Grayson had short, silver hair which was slightly balding, while a pair of gold rimmed glasses perched low on his nose, revealing his eyebrows, which still arched in curiosity. There was no mistaking Gaius.

 

“My boy, my dear boy!” The doctor was saying, a grin spreading across his well lined features. “It's so good to see you. Ever since I remembered my past life, I've been searching for you. I should have known to look by Arthur's side. How are you? You look remarkably young.”

 

“Yet I'm not. Gaius, I should be the one calling you my boy!”

 

“Pray don't confuse me, Merlin. I understand you've lived for more years than anyone should, but I can't think of you as anything other than my ward.”

 

“And you shouldn't because I believe this is my last transmutation. I felt it when I created my new persona of Rhys Wilson. Arthur has returned and my immortality is a thing of the past.”

 

“Then you can be killed, Merlin?” Gaius couldn't hide his worry.

 

“I believe so...” There was a loud thunk of crockery hitting the kitchen counter as Arthur swore, wiping up the coffee he had spilt.

 

“Sorry. I just hate the thought of you putting yourself in mortal danger because of me,” the flustered Arthur explained, as he lifted a second mug and brought it to Merlin's side.

 

“Arthur, it's not just for you. I have to fight evil sorcery. It's who I am. Besides, we've talked about this and I don't mind. Believe me, when you've lived as long as I you're not afraid to leave this world.” Merlin's glance flitted between the man at his side and the one on-screen in far away Cardiff. “Mind you, I'd rather this life lasted into old age. I don't have a death wish.”

 

“I should hope not,” Gaius replied. “Don't go taking any untoward risks. I want to see you alive and well in Cardiff where I can welcome you in person.”

 

“And I can't wait to see you for real either, Gaius. We've got lots to talk about.” The thought of sitting down with his one-time mentor brought a lump to Merlin's throat. “I'd almost given up hope of finding you.”

 

There was the sound of light footsteps and the heady scent of fresh flowers permeated the air as Gwen entered the room, her hair still wet from her shower. “Good morning,” she called to all, though her eyes immediately sought Arthur's, who brightened at the sight of her. “Is that Gaius?” she asked, her glance shifting to Merlin with an indulgent smile.

 

“Morning, Gwen,” the old man answered, though he couldn't yet see her, but he smiled as she drifted by the screen to fetch herself a morning drink.

 

“There's coffee in the percolator... and it's not last night's. I made fresh,” Arthur exclaimed with a flourish.

 

“And surprisingly, it's not that bad,” Merlin had already taken a few sips.

 

Arthur growled at Merlin, though he turned back to Gwen. “Or there's fresh orange juice in the fridge, which I juiced myself.”

 

“Hmmm!” Gwen laughed while looking at the blender sitting in the sink. “So you've mastered making fresh juice, but you're still not sure how to wash the juicer?”

 

Arthur gaped, assuming a wounded expression, while he threw a quick look at Merlin.

 

Taking the mug from his mouth, Merlin said, “Don't look at me. I'm not your servant this time around. You told me that yourself.”

 

“I wasn't going to say that,” Arthur said loftily. “I just haven't gotten round to doing the dishes. Besides, it's not a good use of time management. We've still to have breakfast and we can wash everything up afterwards.”

 

Gwen and Merlin exchanged glances before bursting into laughter, while in Cardiff, Gaius smiled. It did his heart good to see Merlin at ease and teasing his friend. However, he had a job to do, and much as he wanted to spend time with his boy, the quicker they solved the problems of the troubled waters the quicker they would all return home.

 

“I'll leave you to your breakfasts. I have to look in on your father again, Arthur, and I do have other patients who need my attention.” Gaius returned his stare to Merlin, taking in the bright, mischievous features and gleaming eyes. “We'll talk again soon, Merlin, but farewell for the present. Good hunting, and I'll second Ygraine's reminder that you all take the utmost care.”

 

“We will. Bye, Gaius,” Merlin said, Gwen and Arthur echoing his words as Gaius closed the connection. “That was great! Seeing Gaius again. Doesn't he look just the same?”

 

“Apart from the short hair and the suit and tie? I guess he does,” Arthur conceded with a shrug. “Now, how about that food? I'm starving and I'm guessing we have a long day ahead of us.”

 

“There's bacon, eggs and mushrooms in the fridge,” Merlin pointed out. “Why don't you cook?”

 

“Only if you want burnt offerings,” Arthur smirked. “I've already told you, cooking isn't my thing in this life either.”

 

Gwen walked to the fridge, throwing a mildly disapproving look over her shoulder, though in her heart she was delighted to listen to their banter. “Stop tormenting each other, will you? I'll cook... this time. But just because you can't, Arthur, doesn't mean you shouldn't learn. Our relationship is going to be an equal opportunity one. I don't intend to be a tied to the kitchen sink, or cooker.”

 

“And I wouldn't ask you to be. Don't forget, I did make the coffee.” Arthur came up behind her as she retrieved the items from the fridge, slipping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck with his lips. “I'll learn if you'll teach me.”

 

“Good! But we don't have time for that just now... or that.” She laughed as she playfully slapped his hands. “You can help by setting the table.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am,” Arthur joked, snapping to attention, yet he did as he was bid.

 

Within no time there was bacon sizzling away under the grill, while the eggs and mushrooms were ready to be dropped into the frying pan. As Arthur and Merlin set the table for four, Drew walked into the room.

 

“Hi, everybody. Something smells good,” he said, his eyes settling somewhat wistfully on Gwen as she prepared the meal. He'd accepted that she and Arthur were a couple, but he couldn't deny he was still attracted to her. He ducked his head quickly and sat at the table.

 

Yet he hadn't moved fast enough and Arthur noticed the wounded look which flared unbidden in the rejected lover's eyes. Moving further away from Gwen, Arthur took a seat across from Drew. Unfortunately for Drew, there was no way he was going to give Gwen up, yet he disliked the fact that his friend was hurting and it couldn't help the situation that Merlin, too, had found his lost love.

 

Arthur cleared his throat and said matter-of-factly, “Looks like we're going to get good weather to start diving.”

 

Drew looked up. “Yeah. I checked the local weather report online and it seems this good spell is due to last for most of the week. Uncommon for Scotland.”

 

“True.” Arthur chuckled. “When I first arrived, it was raining buckets, which is how I came to slide into the pond. Well, that and the fact that the earth seemed to move.”

 

“It did?”

 

“Yes, but that's the result of the sorcery,” Merlin explained, slipping easily into his old role as he placed two plates of food in front of the other guys, before sitting down himself. “It's definitely not seismic activity as some of the locals and the media are claiming.”

 

Gwen brought over the other plates and the four tucked into their breakfast with relish. So much had happened in the last few days to shock each of them but, clearly, their appetites had not been affected.

 

“OK.” Drew said around a mouthful of crispy bacon. He chewed again and swallowed before continuing. “So we're looking for this magic stuff? I've got most of my memories back, but I'm still not sure what that is exactly.”

 

“Could be a bracelet, or a ring, or even a jewelled pin,” Merlin answered as the others hung on his every word. “What you're looking for will be old. Something that looks a bit like Celtic jewellery, if that helps.”

 

“Like that bracelet you took from me.” Arthur pointed at Merlin with his fork. “The one Morgana had given me when I went on a quest to The Perilous Lands. She told me it was for good luck.” He rolled his eyes in disgust, remembering how his half-sister had played him for a fool. “Some luck! I felt weaker by the day and so much better when it was gone. What did you do with it, Merlin?”

 

“You knew I'd taken it?” Merlin's eyebrows rose. “You never said a word.”

 

“Well, not then... but with hindsight, it's obvious. What did you do with it?”

 

“I gave it to The Fisher King. He was still alive... well, barely, when I fell into his throne-room. He was so tired of living. When he gave me the vial with the water from the Lake of Avalon he asked me for the Eye of The Phoenix in return. I couldn't refuse him. The poor man had been waiting around in that chamber all alone for hundreds of years.”

 

“And it killed him?” Gwen asked, a twinge of anxiety beginning to settle in her stomach.

 

“Yes, but he wanted to die,” Merlin replied quickly. “I wouldn't have done it otherwise. It must have been terrible living forever without anyone for company.” A shiver coursed through Merlin's body at the thought, as his friends looked on sympathetically.

 

“I can imagine,” Arthur said, sitting back, his interest in food waning. “Actually, I can't! At least you weren't always alone, Merlin, and now you have us.”

 

Suddenly, Gwen leaned forward, her hand touching Arthur's wrist. “That bracelet was meant to kill you, Arthur. Even then, Morgana was trying to destroy you.” Gwen was afraid. She prayed Anna would stay different.

 

Arthur nodded, his lips pressed together at the thought, before he shrugged off the horror. “True, but that was then... and this is now. As far as we know, Anna is totally innocent this time around, even though she's been kidnapped by Morgause. We have to concentrate on the present task of cleaning up the waters here as fast as possible. Then we can get around to rescuing Anna.”

 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Drew asked, getting down to business.

 

“We start on Easdale. All the quarries are affected and, since they're all in the one place, we should focus our efforts there first.” Arthur, characteristically, took charge. “Gwen, could you see about chartering a boat for us to reach the other islands? Oh, and talk to Fiona or Freya to find out how many other lochs need fixing.”

 

“I'll get right onto that this morning,” Gwen said, pushing her dark thoughts aside and smiling her encouragement.

 

“And call Matthew, if you would. I'd like to know what's happening in Paris. If he discovered any useful information on Eloise Blessed, particularly where she could've taken Anna.”

 

Gwen, nodded, getting up from the table and starting to clear away the dishes, but she was pre-empted by Arthur. “You're not a servant, and neither is Merlin. If we all muck in, we'll finish it quicker.”

 

There was a flurry of activity as the dishes were washed and the kitchen was put to rights, while the conversation continued.

 

“Merlin, I'm assuming the artefacts we're looking for are fairly small in comparison to the lochs, and the visibility isn't good, which means finding them isn't going to be a walk in the park,” Drew said thoughtfully. “I'd say we're talking about a week or more, depending how many of the smaller islands have quarries.”

 

“Not to mention there are chemicals in the water,” Arthur added, with a heartfelt sigh. He so wanted to visit his father before rushing off to France to find his sister, yet he had to deal with their problems one step at a time.

 

“Don't worry about that,” Merlin put in quickly, sensing the responsibilities which were piling up on Arthur shoulders. “Once the enchanted relics are removed, I can cleanse the water with magic. I've been reviewing my spells and that shouldn't be a problem.”

 

“Good! So now we just have to find the damn things... and the sooner we get started the better.” Arthur lifted the keys to the Range Rover from the kitchen counter and made for the outside door, but as he reached the door, he turned, walking quickly back to Gwen and giving her a goodbye kiss. He was conscious he was breaking his stricture of keeping his distance from her while in the presence of Drew, yet he couldn't help himself. “Bye, Gwen. Be careful because Sigan might still be lurking about and I couldn't bear to lose you too. Make sure to lock all the doors and windows after we leave.”

 

Almost unaware of their audience, Gwen eagerly returned his kiss, saying breathlessly against his lips. “The same applies to you.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “I don't want to live a lonely life without you either... not again.”

 

He smiled into her eyes, then paled as a scary thought struck. “Though I doubt locking the doors will keep out a sorcerer like Sigan.”

 

“It will if I create an enchantment against him,” Merlin announced.

 

“You can do that?” Again Arthur looked with surprise at his friend.

 

“I can. Bye, Gwen, and don't worry, you won't be held a prisoner. The spell will only work against someone trying to break in using magic.”

 

“Good!” With a final smile, Arthur followed the others out to the car to hear Merlin say...

 

**[Belucan ham! Laetan naenig aglaeccraeft infaen. Beorgan Gwen!]**

 

And, once again, Merlin's eyes turned gold, while a shimmer appeared around the house for a split second before dispersing into the clear bright sky.

 

Arthur and Drew stared in wonder, prompting Merlin to state in his normal voice. “Come on, guys. There's no time to stand around gaping. We've a job to do.” He opened up the garage. “You know, about finding these items... I have an idea which might speed up the process, but I don't want to say anything until I check that it's possible.” A tiny grin lit Merlin's face as he started to load the diving gear into the car. “Guys! A little help here, please!”

 

“We thought you could use your magic,” Arthur suggested, straight-faced, though his lips twitched.

 

“As Gaius would tell you, magic is not meant to be used to do chores.” Merlin turned, his arms folded across his chest. “But I could use it to give you both a bad case of acne... or bunions... or...

 

“Enough, Merlin.” Arthur held his hands up, palms forward. “We surrender. Keep your spells for the important stuff. After all, we wouldn't want to tire you out.”

 

A red bath towel flew from one of the backpacks and wrapped around Arthur's shoulders like a cloak. “Very funny, Merlin.” Arthur pulled it off and chucked it back at the warlock. “Do you ever wonder how we managed to fight in those cloaks? They might have looked noble, but I'm surprised we didn't spend most of our time tripping over them.”

 

“Especially when they got wet,” Drew added, nodding.

 

“They weighed a ton then...” Arthur said, flexing his shoulders, “and they kept catching on things! A fashion statement they might have been, but practical they were not. Thank God for modern day clothes.”

 

“Thank goodness I never had to wear one,” Merlin agreed sagely.

 

“Merlin, you had enough trouble trying not to fall over your own feet as it was. If you'd worn a knight's cloak, you'd have been permanently horizontal.” The three men looked at each other and burst out laughing, till another thought occurred to Arthur. “Were you really so clumsy, or was that just a ruse to throw me off the scent? Like the Scarlett Pimpernel.”

 

“Don't joke. I actually met the Scarlett Pimpernel. He was a very brave man.”

 

“The Scarlett Pimpernel was a character in a book. He didn't exist!” Arthur chuckled incredulously.

 

“How do you know? You weren't there,” Merlin said, his chin lifting defensively.

 

“Sorry, Merlin. I have to agree with Arthur here. The book was one we had to read in school... by some Baroness or someone.”

 

For a second, Merlin retained his injured mien before he started giggling again, which prompted Arthur to grab him round the neck and ruffle his hair. “Hey, let go,” Merlin shouted. “I thought we had an important job to do.”

 

“You're right, of course.” But Arthur couldn't resist tousling Merlin's hair one more time, before he set him free. The tasks ahead of them might be fraught with danger, but he, Merlin and Lancelot would face them with courage and the saving grace of laughter. “Let's get this gear loaded and head to Easdale.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank those who left kudos or comments. You really make me feel appreciated, so please continue to let me know what you think.


	19. Of Earth and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Anna and find out what has become of her. We also find out how the team on Easdale are getting along. A lot of memories are revived in this chapter and a few spells, both good and evil.
> 
> I have added my own explanation for an incident which happened in the actual show, but which I felt was brushed over too quickly. I hope you don't mind my temerity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mean to post at the weekend, but I had a particularly busy time. I'm still trying to post every week. Hope you're all still staying with this story.

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

Of Earth and Water

 

 

While Arthur and Merlin were enjoying the summer sunshine, Anna was in a far different place. She awoke to the dark, blinking her eyes to accustom them to the gloom. Where was she and what did she remember?

 

Oh, yes. She'd accepted Eloise's invitation to visit her modelling school, but this couldn't be it... could it? And why couldn't she recollect how she got here? She had a memory of getting into Eloise's chauffeur driven car, but then... nothing. Had she become ill on the way? Perhaps she'd fainted. But she never passed out.

 

Well, there was that one time on her first photo-shoot in the Middle East, but that was sun-stroke. She'd toughened up since then. Besides, if she'd been unwell, wouldn't Eloise have taken her to a hospital, or back to her hotel? Wherever this was, she'd never been here before, though it was so dark, she could barely tell.

 

It was as black as the ace of spades in here, yet she sensed it wasn't night time. There was a faint line of light around the shuttered window at the far end of the room. Now that her eyes were beginning to adjust to the gloom, she could make out slanted ceilings on either side of her and heavy wooden beams holding them aloft. She felt the age of this place and knew, without a shadow of doubt, she'd never visited before.

 

But where was this house and why was she here? More importantly, had Eloise brought her here? She had the strangest sensation she didn't want to find out why.

 

She was lying on a narrow bed, so she pushed herself up, realising she had the full use of her arms. She wasn't shackled. Did this mean she hadn't been kidnapped, though why Eloise Blessed, a very rich and influential woman, should want to abduct her she had no idea. It couldn't be that she was short of money.

 

Well, whoever was responsible, they'd made a big mistake. Anna Penderel was not a weak and pampered rich girl and, with a little bit of luck, she could bluff or bribe her way out of here.

 

Suddenly, something wet dropped on her face. What the hell was that? She touched the slimy liquid on her face. Even in the darkness, she could tell that the substance was black... darker than the space around her.

 

She jumped as she heard an unearthly screech. Someone nearby was screaming. Yet they weren't just close. They were here in the room with her.

 

Anna looked around her, straining her eyes to pick out any shapes. She believed there was the odd piece of furniture in the room, but she couldn't be sure what. Other than that, she was alone.

 

Where were the screams coming from? She covered her ears, but that didn't help. The agonizing cries cut into her head like a knife and she prayed they would stop.

 

But wait. Wasn't there a faint glow in the corner of the room? Barely discernible, but definitely there. She moved stealthily from the bed and crept towards the light. It was a person. Someone was in here with her.

 

The crouched figure moved, lifting his head to look at her and she recognised her brother. Arthur had come for her. Yet there was something strangely unreal about him. His skin was so pale, his hair silver gilt while his eyes glittered coldly.

 

“Arthur?” Morgana whispered, her voice hardly stirring the air in the room.

 

The person who looked like her brother stood, staring down at her, his expression questioning. “Anna?”

 

“Have you come to take me out of here?” she asked again, almost dreading his answer.

 

“Why? Isn't this where you belong?” He gazed around the room, his shoulders lifting in a careless shrug.

 

Anna followed his gaze, noticing that his light had penetrated the darkness and she could see the strange, antiquated room in which she was imprisoned. In truth, she had no proof she was being held against her will, though she was sure that if she found the strength to reach the door, she'd find it locked. On a second search, she noticed the weird objects which were suspended from the roof beams. They were like some sort of root vegetable and they dripped a dark liquid on the floor.

 

“What is this place?” she demanded more forcefully, her gumption returning.

 

“Don't you know?” The man who might be impersonating Arthur asked. “You're with your true family.”

 

“How can that be? You're my true family.”

 

His eyebrows raised doubtfully. “You are not of my blood. My mother adopted you.”

 

Involuntary, Anna's hand lifted to her face, trying to shield herself from a pain which she'd buried deep within her soul, but which had haunted her in moments of strife. “She did. You all did. You wanted me.”

 

The supposed Arthur seemed to consider for a second before laughing and saying, “Do you think so? My father took you in to appease the woman he loved, who was hurting because she couldn't have another child. He didn't want you and I was too young to object.”

 

“No!” Anna cried out in defiance, yet her heart cracked a little. “My father loves me too... and you! You've always loved me.”

 

“She brought you home and we tolerated you for her sake.” Arthur inspected the nails on his hands, his lips compressing. “Nothing more.”

 

“That's not true. We grew up together. You're my brother. We were happy. You can't pretend that kind of love. We're a family.” But as she spoke, her mind refused to focus... everything seemed unreal. Perhaps she was having a nightmare and might wake up at any second.

 

Arthur shrugged. “If that's what you want to believe... but it isn't so. You're an orphan. A nobody. You're not my sister. You never were.”

 

“Don't!” Anna fought to retain her nerve. “Don't you dare say that! I'm Anna Penderel!”

 

Arthur laughed again, his tone cruel. “You are not of my blood!” he repeated more forcefully. “You've no right to the name of Penderel. You were unwanted at your birth and you're unwanted now. You can't hide from your true self.” The man started laughing again, a terrible hateful, almost hysterical laughter as he started advancing on her.

 

Anna backed away, banging into the hanging objects, the liquid leaking onto her hair and face, dripping down her neck and onto her crumpled clothes. Her knees came in contact with the bed and she allowed herself to sink onto the mattress. Arthur followed her. No, that wasn't Arthur. He would never be so hurtful. He was bending over her, his voice loud in her ears.

 

“You are not my sister! No one could love a cheap little upstart like you.”

 

Anna cringed. She was crying now as she curled up into a ball on the bed, closing her eyes against his sneering visage. That wasn't Arthur. The real Arthur just... wouldn't! Whoever he was he was wrong... she was loved.

 

 

*****

 

 

Merlin sat by the edge of Easdale's most western quarry watching for signs that either Drew or Arthur were about to surface. They'd been down a number of times and still hadn't found a thing, unless you discounted a few ring-pulls or the odd coin; a rubber tyre and even an old boot. They were having difficulty with the search due to the Stygian darkness of the water and at this rate it could be weeks before they'd totally cleansed the flooded digs.

 

Merlin had tried activating the charms with magic, hoping that would make them easier to find, but he couldn't break the spells. Each time he tried, it seemed his magic hit an invisible shield. The sorcerer who'd cast the wards was strong indeed, but then Cornelius Sigan had more power than most. It was time to try plan B.

 

Merlin cast about him, but there seemed to be no one about, which was surprising because there had been a steady traffic of tourists during the morning and most had stopped for a time to witness the divers. But the numbers had slowly dwindled away. Merlin's grumbling stomach reminded him it was lunch time. It suddenly dawned on him why they might be alone at this time; the ferrymen stopped for an hour for lunch.

 

Now would be a good time to summon the Vilia. Merlin repeated the spell he'd cast the previous night and within seconds the floating bubbles appeared. Apparently, the Vilia were just waiting for his call.

 

“Merlin, we thought you might have need of us,” the leading lady said with a smile. “Would it help if we could lead your friends to the source of the magic?”

 

The warlock stood and grinned in return. “That's just what I hoped you'd do. They've been searching all morning and found nothing. Let me call them to explain.”

 

“Why don't you tell Arthur telepathically and we'll speak to Lancelot, but do it quickly, Merlin, because I fear we are running out of time. The evil ones grow stronger.” And with that the bubbles slipped under the surface of the water.

 

Merlin too got down to work.  _ “Arthur! Arthur, can you hear me?” _

 

“ _Of course I can, you idiot. Stop shouting! You almost deafened me.”_

 

“ _I'm talking telepathically. How can I deafen you?”_

 

“ _I don't know! But, believe me, you can.”_ Yet Arthur felt he'd expressed his objections well enough and turned his mind back to the job. _“What is it? Has Drew found anything? He's diving on the other side of the pond and I can't see him. Hell! I can hardly see a hand's breadth in front of me. This is going to take forever. Are you sure your magic won't work, Merlin?”_

 

“ _I'm sure.”_

 

“ _Try again! Maybe you haven't cracked the code yet.”_

 

“ _We're not working for MI5,”_ Merlin stated, amazed that he could get just as exasperated by Arthur as he could in days gone by and yet still have such a close friendship with the prat. _“Arthur, my magic doesn't work but that doesn't mean that someone else's won't.”_

 

“ _Whose? Fiona? Is she there?”_

 

Fiona had visited them earlier to see how they were getting along and she'd promised to return with lunch, but she hadn't shown up yet.

 

“ _No. Someone else... actually, a few someones to be exact. Do you remember I told you the story of the Vilia... the spirit of the brooks and streams?”_

 

“ _The ones who saved you and Lancelot from the Dorocha?”_

 

“ _That's them.”_ Merlin sighed, knowing Arthur would probably be angry that he hadn't mentioned their arrival last night. _“Well, I haven't had a chance to tell you yet... because of everything that's happened in between, but they came back last night.”_

 

“ _What? Why didn't you say?”_

 

“ _Because we've been pretty busy... you talking to your mother and Gaius. You've no idea how much finding Gaius meant to me. It sort of drove everything else from my mind... and then there was the phone call from Mordred... I mean Matthew and all he had to tell us. I was exhausted by the time we went to bed and I thought you were too. Then this morning we came right here...”_

 

But Arthur interrupted before he could explain further.  _ “This is about the idea you had when we were packing up the car? The one you were all mysterious about.” _

 

“ _Yes. I called the Vilia last night, but for a different reason entirely,”_ Merlin admitted. _“I had to convince Drew that magic did exist and just lighting a flame in my hand didn't cut it. I blame it on those TV magicians, making people sceptical.”_

 

“ _But why call the Vilia to convince Drew?”_ Arthur was struggling to follow, but then realisation dawned. _“They'd helped you and Lancelot...”_

 

“ _Right! And this time, not only did they convince Drew that magic is real, but they jogged his memory. He started to remember his life in Camelot... but he has no idea of what happened when he returned from beyond the veil, so don't go telling him those details.”_

 

“ _That wasn't Lancelot, was it?”_

 

A tight grin touched Merlin's lips. Sometimes Arthur was more perceptive than he expected. _“No. He was a shade and Morgana conjured him up. He was only acting under her orders. The real Lancelot would never have risked Gwen's happiness like that.”_ For a short moment, Merlin allowed himself to be distracted before giving himself a mental shake. _“Arthur, I'll be happy to discuss the whole incident with you at some future time, but don't you think we should be concentrating on cleansing the waters right now?”_

 

Arthur allowed himself to surface, treading water as he rid himself of his mouthpiece and mask. _“I expect you're right, Merlin. In fact, you were often correct. I just never gave you enough credit. If you catch me acting like a stubborn fool in the present, you've my permission to hit me over the head with something heavy.”_

 

This time Merlin laughed out loud and the sound of a derisive chuckle reached him from across the water as Arthur started swimming towards him.

 

“ _Will these Vilia friends of yours help us with the search?”_ Arthur resorted to telepathy. There didn't seem to be anyone about, but it still seemed unwise to shout when talking about the paranormal.

 

“ _I think they actually offered last night. They wished us well on our quest and told me to call on them if we needed their help.”_

 

Arthur was only a few strokes from the shore and within a minute or two he was pulling himself onto the rocks at the edge of the water below Merlin. “We need them,” he said in his normal voice, swiping the water from his face with his hands. “Otherwise it's going to take Drew and me forever to clear these quarries. Just do whatever you need to call them.”

 

“Arthur, they're already here. I was trying to tell you that when you tried to side track me with a trip down memory lane.”

 

“That happens to be a pretty important memory,” Arthur objected moodily, though as Merlin had pointed out, this wasn't the time for revisiting old hurts, especially since there was nothing he could do to change the past... except learn from his mistakes. “But you're right. OK, where are these Vilia?”

 

“Don't the words 'spirits of the brooks and streams' give you a clue?” Merlin mimed quote marks in the air. “They're in the water... searching and, if you go down, they'll direct you to the artefacts.”

 

At that moment, Drew surfaced behind them, stripping off his gear and revealing a smiling face. “Are these the amulets you're looking for, Merlin?” Drew asked while depositing a heavily engraved bracelet and a ring on the rocks. Both objects bore a sickly yellow coloured stone.”

 

“Good God! They even look evil,” Arthur stated about to pick one up, then changing his mind when he remembered how the Eye of the Phoenix had drained his strength. “Did you find them, Drew, or was it your friends?”

 

“I told Arthur about the Vilia,” Merlin explained, clambering down the sloping bank till he was close to the jewellery.

 

“That was a great idea... calling the Vilia.” Drew was smiling again. “They were terrific. I'd never have found these on my own. It's just too dark and murky down there.”

 

“So, let's keep going,” Arthur suggested sliding into the water again. “It might be warm in the sun, but the water is freezing and I'd rather get this done as quickly as possible.” At these words, his eyes looked bleak as he gazed towards the horizon and his thoughts turned to his family, but again he brought himself back to the present task. “How does this work? Are the Vilia like mermaids or something?”

 

Again Merlin let out a bark of laughter, while Drew merely smiled, shaking his head. “They're spirits, Arthur,” Merlin said. “They don't have bodies like you or me... or mermaids.”

 

“Arthur, they appear as bubbles in the water, but if you look closely, you can see faces inside the bubbles,” Drew explained, a little more kindly. “They'll find what we're looking for and then they'll take you to it. They don't have arms or hands to lift or carry, so you'll have to do that, but they do have voices to attract your attention.”

 

“Right... and I thought my life in Camelot was strange. OK, back to work.” Arthur put his mask and mouthpiece in place and slid below the water once more, giving a final wave to his friends as he did so. Drew followed quickly, swimming in the opposite direction from Arthur.

 

Though Arthur had been doubtful about what the Vilia could actually do, he soon became a convert and within a very short space of time, the hoard in front of Merlin grew. All in all, they'd found seven objects in the quarry when the Vilia finally declared the first lochan was cleared of all sorcery.

 

They stopped for a short break when Fiona returned with a picnic lunch, then leaving Merlin and Fiona to neutralise the chemicals in the water, Arthur and Drew, accompanied by the helpful spirits, moved onto the next pond.

 

By the time Freya arrived with Gwen later in the day all the flooded quarries on Easdale had been cleansed, probably to the disappointment of the tourists who had been fascinated by the unique water displays. However, apart from noticing that two divers were exploring the lochs, no strangers had actually known what was happening. Fiona had explained to the locals that she'd called in two young friends to discover the source of the raging waters and most hadn't objected to their quarries being fixed as the villagers were growing a little tired of being at the centre of such controversial attention.

 

*****

 

The group that arrived home that evening were tired but had the satisfaction of a job well done. Since Gwen had managed to hire a small lobster boat to take them to the other islands the next day, they were happy their task in Argyll would be completed much sooner than they'd first thought.

 

Merlin, however, was conflicted. Although he hated leaving Freya, he knew he had to return to Cardiff with Arthur to silence the rumours that Camelot Industries' fracking plants had been responsible for the water turbulence and inform the media that no one on the west coast of Scotland was in danger of a volcanic eruption.

 

Plus, he had no intention of letting Arthur go searching for Anna alone. He had a very bad feeling about the young woman's fate. In fact, that had been the one worrying point in the day. Gwen had heard from Mordred, who had discovered that Eloise Blessed did have a suite permanently hired in The Park Hyatt Hotel and that she had been in residence until the Saturday Anna had lunched there. However, it seemed she had left and, so far, he hadn't been able to track her down. It was likely that this Eloise had taken Anna and Arthur would need the help of magic to wrest his sister from her abductors.

 

Merlin also had another more exciting reason for returning to Cardiff, the longing to meet Gaius in person. But it meant he had to leave Freya behind which opened a gaping hole in his heart. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't rid himself of a niggling premonition that if he left her he would never find her again. He was probably being foolish.

 

Yet, that evening as they made their plans to return home, Merlin discovered he had nothing to fear as Freya had decided to accompany them. She was owed leave and had asked her boss if he would let her take it at short notice. Since a couple of veterinary students were spending the summer gaining work experience with the practice, he'd been philosophical at losing his best assistant for two weeks. Gwen had agreed to have Freya stay with her for the time they spent in Cardiff. Suddenly, Merlin's future was looking rosy again.

 

Arthur was also feeling a little more optimistic. He'd watched bemused as Merlin and Fiona, their eyes tinted golden as they had incanted in unison to destroy the magic of the amulets until they appeared nothing more than trinkets.

 

“That was easy!” he quipped, his blue eyes narrowing as he looked at Merlin. “On the island, you said those things were too strong for you to crack.”

 

“They were when they were immersed in the quarries,” Merlin tried to clarify. “I think Sigan... if it is Sigan, cast a protective shield over the surface of the water, but it didn't affect the Vilia because they are actually part of the water. I asked Fiona to add her magic to mine to neutralise the amulets just in case.”

 

Standing next to Arthur, Gwen reached out a hand and lifted a silver bracelet from the table, holding it up to the light to study it. “This reminds me of something,” she said dreamily. “I think I might have been given something like this.”

 

“I doubt it, Gwen. That's over fifteen hundred years old... maybe older,” Arthur said, taking it from her hand. He had no idea why, but he didn't want her touching it.

 

“I don't mean in this life.” Abruptly she turned and stared at Lancelot. “You gave it to me, Lancelot,” she said accusingly.

 

“Not me!” Drew shook his head, still finding it difficult to come to terms with the fact he had lived once before, particularly since it seemed there was much that he didn't remember. “I was a penniless mercenary. I could never have afforded anything like that.”

 

“Yet you did. I remember. It was when you came back to Camelot. You told us you were given it by the Madhavi people... to wish you well.” Gwen was backing away from the group as her memories surged back. Wicked, hurtful memories. “You wanted me to have it... to wish me well in my marriage to Arthur. I told you I couldn't accept it, yet you slipped it onto my wrist. Afterwards I had all these conflicting thoughts. They built up in my mind. I couldn't help myself being drawn to you.”

 

“No. I would never have tricked you. I loved you,” Lancelot at last cried out.

 

“But you didn't mean to, Lancelot,” Merlin put in sadly. “As I told you before, you'd fallen under Morgana's spell. How she enchanted you, I can't say, but when you came back, you were her puppet.” He still couldn't bear to tell his friend that he was once a shade. “She instructed you to pass on that enchanted bracelet to revive Guinevere's love for you. Neither of you could resist her spells.”

 

“I should have known,” Arthur said, his brow furrowing as he saw everything more clearly. “Lancelot, you always had a noble heart... and Gwen.” He walked towards the woman to whom he'd given his love in both his incarnations. “Guinevere, I misjudged you. You said you didn't know why you were drawn to Lancelot and I didn't listen. I should have known you wouldn't betray me on the eve of our wedding. If you'd had doubts you would have told me...”

 

“I had no doubts, Arthur.”

 

“You told me that too... but I was too proud to believe you. I should have trusted you but instead I banished you! King Arthur was a fool.” Arthur's tone was full of self-disgust. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

 

“Arthur, there is nothing to forgive. Morgana played us all for fools... except Merlin perhaps.” Gwen took hold of Arthur's outstretched hands. “But she didn't succeed. I loved you then and I love you still. No magic can ever come between us.”

 

As Arthur wrapped his arms around Gwen, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I promise you I won't let it happen again.”

 

“I know,” Gwen whispered, leaning into his embrace as the others watched on with smiles on their faces... even Drew. He knew he'd never really stood a chance.

 

At last Arthur's attention came back to the job in hand, though he kept his arm around Gwen. He waved his free hand at their haul of amulets. “So these things are perfectly safe now?” Arthur asked as he and Gwen joined their friends. “I can't thank either of you enough... or the Vilia. Good magic triumphed over bad...”

 

“This time,” Merlin added a word of caution. “And I wouldn't exactly say these things are harmless. Fiona and I have robbed them of their power for the moment, but they are still magical artefacts. If Sigan ever gets his hands on them again, there's no telling what he could do.”

 

“Then we'd better make sure he doesn't retrieve them,” Arthur said, looking askance at the ancient jewellery. “So, do you have any ideas how we can do that?”

 

“I think I might be able to help,” Fiona put in. “Just give me a moment or two.” The elderly lady went out to her car and returned carrying a heavy wooden box which Merlin took from her.

 

“A magical chest, Fiona?” he asked, placing it on the table while giving the rune marks on the lid a quick inspection.

 

“It looks like an antique.” Drew gave his considered opinion.

 

“That's because it is. I always thought you were an intelligent young man. Of course, we never met, but I do know all about you.” Fiona smiled at Drew, before returning her attention to her box, her hand running over the surface of the etched wood. “I bought this more than a hundred years ago, though it was an antique even then. I found it in an old curiosity shop in London. It called to me and I just knew it was magic. I think it will do nicely to keep our stash of magical contraband safe. Don't you, Merlin?”

 

“I'm sure it will,” Merlin agreed with a grin. “Particularly if we cast a locking spell over it. Shall we do this together, Fiona?”

 

“Oh, I've enchanted that chest a number of times over. Besides, you have more power than I.” Fiona stood back and gestured to her casket. “Please do the honours, Merlin.”

 

Stretching his hands in the air above the box, Merlin spoke...

 

“ **Belucan scryn!”**

 

Again the air around the chest glimmered as Merlin's blue eyes tinted the usual gold.

 

“And that's it?” Arthur asked, less enthusiastically. Clearly he was becoming more blasé at witnessing enchantments.

 

“Yeah. It should stand up to most magical assaults now,” Merlin replied, still regarding the chest and Fiona with a touch of awe. Just how many times had Fiona lived? Someday soon they'd have to have a long chat... perhaps with Gaius. But as that thought registered in his brain, he yawned loudly. “Excuse me,” he said, putting his hand over his mouth, belatedly. “I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I think we should all get some rest. We've got to do all this over again tomorrow.”

 

“I agree, Merlin,” Arthur said, but he pointed at the box. “And when we're finished here, that thing is coming back to Cardiff with us. It's going straight into the safe in my father's office. We can protect it with both magic and modern security.”

 

The group broke up soon after, Fiona going back to stay with Freya as she'd missed the last ferry while the others made their way to bed.

 

As Arthur settled down for the night, he was satisfied with the knowledge they would be returning to Cardiff soon and more hopeful that his father would live. Earlier in the evening, his mother had told him that his father had regained consciousness and had recognised her, though he still couldn't move nor communicate. Benedict had spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, though that too seemed to be expected.

 

Much sooner than Arthur had believed possible, and after a quick visit to see his father for himself, they would turn their skills to finding and rescuing Anna.

 

In his head, he imagined his sister afraid and in pain. “Stay strong, Anna,” he whispered into the dark. “We're coming for you. I promise. We will bring you home.”

 

Lost in a prison, both real and imagined, in a city many miles away a tiny sliver of hope blossomed in Anna's heart.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like a stuck record when I say how glad I am to find out you're continuing to read. Kudos are great, but comments are the silver lining! So, if you have time, I'd be over the moon to hear what you think.


	20. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna's torment continues and another character finds himself getting in deeper than he might have wanted... but it's too late for both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've managed to post this week, however, we have family coming to stay next weekend for a week. I might be able to post the next chapter before they arrive. I will try.

Chapter Twenty

 

Mind Games

 

 

Anna awoke from a troubled sleep, an annoying headache throbbing behind her eyes. She forced herself to ignore the discomfort and sit up, searching her surroundings. She was still here in this dark, dreary room with those weird roots suspended over her head. It hadn't all been a bad dream.

 

Well, she wasn't about to accept her situation any longer. With a sudden surge of spirit, fuelled by anger, she stormed towards the door and yanked at the handle only to find it locked. So, she was incarcerated. Anna did the next best thing and began banging on the door and shouting to be let out.

 

“Is anybody there?” she cried at the top of her voice. “Whoever you are I suggest you open this door.”

 

She waited a moment for a reply, but she was met with silence. She kicked at the door, pulling against it in the hope that the lock might give, but nothing happened.

 

“Get back here and let me out!”

 

There was still no reaction from the other side of the door. The house remained as silent as a grave.

 

“Come on! Whoever you are, if you want money, I can pay you.” No one answered. So much for conciliation and bribery. She hit the door with her fist in frustration. “My family will call in the police. It would be better for you if you just let me go.” Her pleas fell upon deaf ears. She rattled the door once more. “Get me out of here,” she screamed again, but there was a touch of hysteria in her voice. She continued to pound on the surface of the wood. From what she'd managed to glean from her earlier search, this place was old and perhaps if she expended enough energy, she might finally break down the door.

 

“You're wasting your time,” the annoying voice of her brother's lookalike came from behind her.

 

Anna turned slowly towards the centre of the room, leaning her back against the door. “Oh, you're back, are you? Have you come to torment me some more? Because I have to tell you it isn't working. You're not Arthur... you're just a figment of my imagination, or someone else's imagination,” she added, her mind making a fantastical leap. But how? Were her mysterious captors using some kind of hologram? Was that even possible?

 

“What makes you think that?” the dreamlike Arthur sneered, interrupting her thoughts. “Is it because you don't like what I'm saying?” He edged closer, stalking her like a predator. “And if I am a figment of your imagination, then you're the one who's dreaming up my words.”

 

Anna's hand flew to cover her mouth. She felt like screaming again.

 

“Come on, Anna. Why don't you just admit to the truth... part of you has always wondered who you really are. Deep down, you knew you weren't a true Penderel... never felt worthy of their love.”

 

“That's not true,” she objected from behind her hand, though there was little force to her statement.

 

“But it is, Anna.” A different voice joined in the conversation. A soft, feminine voice. One she had always loved and trusted. “You've hidden it well, but it's always been there, buried deep in your heart; the fear that you were never really theirs... never really accepted.”

 

“No!” Anna shouted as she pushed herself away from the door to confront her brother and the woman who must be somewhere in the room, though she couldn't see her. “You're lying. My mother loves me.”

 

Arthur blocked her path, looming large before her. “Perhaps your biological mother, but then it does beg the question why she gave you away.”

 

“She died. My parents both died... in a car crash. They couldn't help it,” Anna declared, her head held high, but there was a tiny frisson of doubt in her tone.

 

“Is that what they told you?” And again this Arthur started laughing like some demented clown. Suddenly he stopped and leaned close to whisper. “That was a lie.”

 

An alien feeling of icy breath on her cheek accompanied his words and Anna couldn't stop herself from shrinking from him. “No,” she repeated, but this time her voice was barely audible.

 

“But why would my son lie?” The woman spoke again as she stepped from Arthur's shadow... only in this strange darkened room, there were no shadows. “Anna, my dear... though I shouldn't really call you that... Arthur speaks the truth. Your real mother didn't want you, and I can't really blame her. I've tried so hard to love you, we all have, but it's impossible. You're an unlovable person.”

 

The pale woman with silver streaked through her flaxen hair stared and Anna recognised her mother, Ygraine. But why was she agreeing with Arthur, saying these terrible things? “You don't mean that,” she cried out in shock. “You've always taken care of me. We're a family. We're happy!”

 

“We kept up appearances. After all, the Penderels have a reputation to uphold... Perhaps if you'd tried harder to belong... taken your place in the family firm, you might have been of some use to your father. Yet you chose to follow your own path. You can't expect to take and give nothing in return.” Ygraine drew herself up and though she was slight, her figure seemed to fill Anna's vision. “You're a selfish ungrateful brat...”

 

“That's not true.” Anna backed away from the hurtful accusations, stumbling towards the bed, her head colliding with the roots. Slimy liquid spilled all around her. “ I don't know who you are but you're not my mother...”

 

“I'm not,” agreed the woman, smiling cruelly. “You have no mother. We both disowned you.”

 

“As do I!” The ghostly Arthur moved to stand with the replica of Ygraine. Anna refused to believe they were real... but her mind whirled in confusion. Their eerie presence unsettled her.

 

Now the screeching started again, the awful terrifying screaming and once more, Anna took refuge in the bed, pulling the covers over her head, a silken bedspread which was wet with dark oily droppings and now with her tears. Yet still the noise reverberated in her brain, stretching her nerves taught as a bow string until she fainted clean away.

 

 

*****

 

 

Mark Cornwallis climbed out of his car, turned up the collar of his raincoat and pulled down the brim of his hat. The rain had arrived on a westerly squall during the night and had continued for most of the morning. He chanced a glance upwards. If the heavy grey skies were any judge, the downpour was set to last for some time. The sudden break in the weather had been a shock as the country had basked in summer sunshine and warmth for a number of weeks.

 

He had an unnatural dislike of rain. It reminded him of the day he'd fallen down a sinkhole and the vicious downpour had threatened to make the pit into his grave. Fortunately, he'd found an alternative way out, yet he'd never been able to rid himself of the fear of being buried alive. Though his escape had led him to hidden riches, rainstorms such as this tended to stress him out.

 

As if his present surroundings weren't enough to cause him anxiety. Cardiff wasn't his favourite city and this area in particular was regarded as one of the most deprived parts of South Wales. Not the sort of place he would choose to frequent, but the man he was meeting had picked the time and place.

 

Looking up and down the road through a curtain of rain, he saw a group of teenage punks hanging around the street corner. He noticed with a stab of unease that the cafe to which he was heading was directly behind the boys, though there might very well be some girls in the group. In this day and age, he sometimes found it difficult to tell the difference.

 

He shivered, and not just from the damp, but quickly reminded himself that no matter how threatening these kids might be, he was vastly more powerful. However, now was not a judicious moment to be showing of his skill as a sorcerer.

 

Mark took a deep breath and walked past the gathering with as much confidence as he could muster, heaving an inward sigh of relief when he made it through the door. The inside of the establishment wasn't much of an improvement, but it was dry at least.

 

After a quick look around, he spotted his latest employee sitting in the far corner and made his way to the table, almost shuddering in disgust as he sat on the spindly chair which probably hadn't seen any cleaning fluid in a very long time. The whole cafe looked in need of a good wash down with disinfectant.

 

The bald-headed man behind the counter didn't even bother to come over. Instead he shouted, his hoarse voice grating on Mark's nerves, “What ya want?”

 

“I'm fine, thank you.” Mark's cultured voice set him apart from the few other customers, who all turned to stare.

 

“He'll have a coffee,” the young man opposite Mark stated before saying quietly, “Joe likes his clientèle to buy something. You don't have to drink it, but he might be insulted if you don't.”

 

Mark's brow rose in disdain. “Do I care?”

 

The man shrugged. “Please yourself, but don't let Joe's beer belly fool you. He used to be a successful boxer and he's still pretty handy with his fists when he needs to be. You don't want to go upsetting him.”

 

“I'm not afraid of him,” Mark replied, though, truthfully, he had an abhorrence of violence. Of course, he could blast Joe to kingdom come if he wanted to, but he'd no intention of showing of his skills prematurely in such a dilapidated place, nor to an audience such as this.

 

A dirty mug was thumped down on the table top in front of him, splashing him with hot, rather insipid coloured liquid. “That's right. No need to be scared of me,” the proprietor said, bending over Mark. “Not unless you're thinking of causing trouble... and I doubt a gent like you is the kind to give offence.” The word 'gent' was emphasised by a sneer.

 

Mark pulled back from Joe's rancid breath, promising himself that from now on he would set the arrangements to meet his spy. “No. Of course not. I'm not the troublesome type.”

 

“Right. That'll be a tenner,” Joe growled, holding his hand out.

 

“Ten pounds for that coffee?” Mark said objecting.

 

“Yer friend said you'd pay for his too!”

 

For a fleeting second, Mark was tempted to dash the annoying owner's brains across the back wall, but he swallowed down his ire and paid up. There was no way he would let this disgusting upstart wreck his carefully laid plans.

 

He waited till the owner had gone back behind his counter, before addressing the other man, “I must say, Mr Edwards, that I don't approve of your choice of rendezvous.”

 

“You did mention you wanted somewhere you wouldn't be recognised,” Will answered, his voice surly. Although he would enjoy the extra money, he wasn't sure exactly what Cornwallis had planned for him. As a new employee, he'd expected to walk into the firm's headquarters and not skulk around like a secret agent.

 

“True! But I'd expected a place which was clean and inhabited by people other than morons.”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Will hissed, glancing over at Joe. To be honest, Will didn't frequent this cafe these days, though he had been raised close by. He might not be totally happy with his position in Camelot Industries, but it gave him a standard of living which had lifted him out of his childhood neighbourhood. However, he remembered enough to know not to anger Joe.

 

Receiving a threatening glare from Joe, Mark decided to ignore his discomfort and get through this meeting as quickly as possible. “Very well. Let's get down to business.”

 

“OK. When do I start at Sigan Fuels?”

 

Mark's thin eyebrows arched. “Mr Edwards, I believe there's been a misunderstanding. Your worth to me is not in what you can do at Sigan Fuels but in your present position with Camelot Industries.”

 

“What as? An industrial spy?”

 

“Perhaps... I have a particular task for you, for which I shall pay you a large sum of money. Are you interested, or has my journey to this godforsaken area been a complete waste of time?”   
  
“Why don't you tell me and I'll let you know, though I'm not prepared to do anything too violent... like blowing something up.”

 

Mark let out a disparaging bark of laughter. “Believe me, I've no need for any help in that sphere.”

 

For a fleeting second, Mark's eyes darkened to jet black and Will pushed back in his chair. There was something about this guy which was unnerving... yet the extra money would be good. Plus, he could at last hit back at the high and mighty Penderels. Will had no idea why he despised the family and Arthur, in particular, quite as much as he did, but as they weren't getting physically hurt, why should he worry. Cornwallis drummed his manicured nails on the table top, waiting for an answer.

 

“OK. So what do you want me to do?”

 

“I need you to report Camelot Industries for illegal practises.”

 

“What illegal practices?”

 

Mark's shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Oh, let's consider... Something like Arthur Penderel bribing various agencies to gain planning permission to frack for shale gas in Bearsden... and other sites,” he stated, a calculating smirk twisting his lips.

 

“And how am I supposed to know that?” Will asked, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

 

“I'll leave that up to you, but you could say you witnessed some of the transactions. After all, you're one of his employees.” Mark leaned forward, his pebbled stare freezing the younger man in place. “An anonymous allegation might be best at first,” he suggested, doubting this Will Edwards would withstand an interrogation. Nevertheless, such a rumour, coupled with Benedict's illness, could shake the shareholders' confidence in the new untested CEO and trigger an investigation by OfGEM.

 

Yet his latest employee seemed unconvinced. “And you think the authorities will take notice of one anonymous tip-off?”

 

“Never fear! I can assure you, your accusation will be corroborated.”

 

A fleeting expression of self-derision flushed Will's face. “So you've someone else in your pocket?”

 

“Ah, but my pockets are very large, Mr Edwards,” Mark almost cackled as the image of his Aladdin rich cage filled his vision. “And I've other irons in the fire. But that really is no concern of yours.”

 

Meanwhile, he would use his financial contacts to spread another fabrication that Camelot Industries had over-extended itself and its cashflow in venturing into the shale gas industry. Given the rumours already circulating about the consequences of the Scottish drill site, Camelot Industries would soon be in difficulty and he would have his revenge.

 

He rose from the table, dropping a bulging brown envelope on the surface as if it were contaminated by some dread virus. Mark found this cloak and dagger work slightly beneath his position, but it was necessary if he was to keep up his side of the bargain with Eloise. “Your first instalment. Do your work well, Mr Edwards and you'll receive the rest later. On the other hand, disappoint me and I promise you won't enjoy the result.”

 

Turning sharply on his heel, Mark marched, head held high from the cafe without looking back to see the effect his pronouncement had made on the surly man. It was still raining but the inclement weather had chased the young vandals away. No doubt they were off making mischief somewhere more sheltered.

 

Walking smartly to his car, he powered it up and roared away, glad to leave the city behind. Tonight, he had to pay another visit to the isles of the slate quarries to see how his scheme was progressing. That meddlesome Penderel junior and his friends were intent on purifying the waters, though he was fairly certain they wouldn't succeed. After all, who in this day and age would ever dream the turbulence was caused by magic? And yet, he couldn't wholly ignore the frisson of magic he'd sensed when spying on them the other day. They'd spotted him, which meant he had to be more careful in the future, yet they hadn't been able to apprehend him. They never would. Penderel and his associates were no match for Cornelius Sigan.

 

 

*****

 

 

When Anna woke again, the first thing she noticed was the attic room appeared less dim. Someone had cracked open the louvred shutters and stripes of daylight lay like a haphazard painting across the foot of her bed.

 

The uneven light glinted off a fair head, but not, this time, belonging to the unearthly form of her brother. Nevertheless, she knew who was sharing the room with her.

 

Anna resisted the temptation to jump up and demand that she be set free. Instead, she collected her thoughts, settled her breathing and asked in as frigid a tone as she could manage, “Why am I here... and what do you want from me, Eloise?”

 

The woman moved closer to Anna, yet her new position took her out of the rays of muted sunshine and Anna had the strange sensation that Eloise wanted to hide her facial expression.

 

“Don't you know who I am?” the blonde jailer asked.

 

Shrugging, Anna replied, trying bravely to hold back her mounting unease, “You're Eloise Blessed, the woman who invited me to lunch to discuss a business deal. I can't say I'm impressed by your methods... and do you always answer a question with another question?”

 

“And that's all I am to you?” Her words were clipped, but Anna sensed an underlying disappointment in her tone. She was more sure than ever that Eloise was hiding from her.

 

“I had thought we might be friends,” Anna offered. Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding, though she had to admit that possibly drugging someone and bringing them to an unknown lair without a by your leave wasn't exactly amiable. “However, if you had some other sort of liaison in mind, I have to tell you that I'm straight. Not that I've anything against those who aren't... it's just not my scene.” She swung her legs to the floor and stood erect. “Shall we just accept that we got our wires crossed and you can turn me loose? Oh, and, just in case you're the old-fashioned type who likes to keep their preferences to themselves, I promise to say nothing to anyone about this whole unsavoury episode.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Eloise took a step backward and the light fell on her face revealing her drawn brow, her confused stare. Clearly, Anna had guessed wrong. “I am Eloise now, but I wasn't always. My name was Morgause.”

 

Again Anna was baffled. “OK, so you changed your name. There's nothing illegal about that, so why kidnap me... assuming this is just your plain old regular abduction?”

 

“No! It's not. And it wasn't my first choice,” Eloise admitted quietly. “I hoped you would remember.”

 

“Remember what?”

 

Anger was beginning to build within Anna again. She hated being coerced. She'd left home because her father had assumed, wrongly, that she'd join the family business... and she'd done so loving him, but still refusing to bend to his will. There was little chance she'd allow herself to be used as a pawn by Eloise. She pushed past the older woman and her passage brought her in contact with those strange suspended plants. Once more a crazy shriek pierced her ears and reached into the recesses of her mind. “And what the hell are those?” She swiped at the dark sodden root as she shouted at the mad woman.

 

“They are mandrake roots. Can you hear them scream?”

 

“Roots don't scream!” Anna countered sarcastically. “Look, I don't know why you've brought me here and I've no idea what you have planned, but I warn you I don't scare easily. You can stop your hysterical audio recordings and take your over dramatic holograms out of my sight and leave me alone!”

 

But the lady didn't heed Anna's words. Slowly, she walked nearer as she spoke. “I never meant to frighten you or hurt you... and I do know you don't scare easily and...”

 

“You know nothing about me!”

 

“But I do. I know you very well. In fact, we once were very close.” Eloise smiled gently as if remembering another time.

 

“I only met you last week,” Anna stated, regarding Eloise with a look pitched somewhere between sardonic ire and puzzled pity. “Do you happen to suffer from delusions?”

 

“I'm sorry, Morgana...”

 

“Morgana? Who's Morgana? Is this a case of mistaken identity?”

 

“No, Morgana!” Eloise emphasised the name. “That is your true name. And you're wrong on both counts. I came to visit because I'd hoped you'd be more open to my suggestion that we talk, but I see you're stronger than I suspected. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. Are you sure you have no memory of me in your past?”

 

Ignoring the sense of deja vu she'd felt when she'd first met Eloise, Anna cried, desperation creeping into her tone, “There is nothing to remember! We've only just met.”

 

With a sad shake of her head, Eloise walked towards the door and placing her hand on the latch, she opened it quietly. “I understand you're not yet ready to accept what I have to tell you and I'm sorry. Please believe that I don't want to put you through more torments... but soon this will pass and you'll realise it was necessary.”

 

Without another word, and as soft footed as a wraith, Eloise slipped through the doorway, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. Immediately, Anna flung herself at the door, but she'd already heard the bolts slipping into place.

 

“Come back here,” she shouted, her voice beginning to rise in panic. “Let me out, you... you witch!” She banged on the door and waited, but no answering sound came back to her. As before, the house was as quiet as a tomb. Futilely, she hit the door twice more with her fist, but the ancient wood didn't budge and, turning, she slid down to the ground. “Why are you doing this, you stupid, evil, bloody witch?”

 

It occurred to Anna, sitting straight-backed and grim upon the floor, that the name witch wasn't a complete misnomer.

 

 

***** 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do notice the numbers of hits is increasing, however, I'm not sure if many people have much interest left in my story. I'm sorry, too, because Arthur, Merlin and co do not appear in this last chapter. Don't worry, we will return to them soon.


	21. A Long Awaited Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot against Camelot Industries is bigger than our heroes realised. Also Merlin is united with someone very dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a day early as I'm going to be very busy in the next week. It might be more than a week before I can post another chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading this part of the tale. This chapter is really a bridge to what comes next.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-one

 

A Long Awaited Homecoming

 

On a drear evening on the island of Seil, as the summer sun had, at last, been overtaken by a bank of low cloud, a group of tired but satisfied young people returned to their temporary home to be alerted to yet another pending catastrophe, if perhaps not of the magnitude of those they'd faced recently.

 

It came in a phone call from Cardiff, though not the one Arthur was dreading. In fact, Benedict Penderel's health was improving slightly day-by-day, even though he still couldn't talk. Nor did he have much movement on the right side of his body, but Gaius was hopeful he would regain some motor skills given intense physiotherapy. The younger Penderel was impatient to return home to see his father for himself, yet he wanted to finish the job on the slate islands first.

 

However, he couldn't simply ignore what his mother had to tell him. The conversation had moved on from his father's illness quite innocently at first... “Darling, I'm afraid there have been some reporters snooping around the hospital,” she said.

 

“That's only to be expected, Mum. Dad didn't exactly keep a low profile.”

 

“Oh, I know that,” she cut in quickly before lowering her voice. “But that's not why they're here.” There was a pause and Arthur could picture his mother looking around to be sure no one was listening in on their conversation. And now that he thought of it, his mother was using a pay phone, which was rather strange. “Do you remember a young reporter friend of Anna's... Wayne McGuire?” She didn't wait for him to answer, but went on quickly, “No. You wouldn't. I don't believe you were in Cardiff when she brought him home. Anyway, that's not important. He came by the hospital today to talk to me...”

 

Now Arthur interrupted, wearily annoyed. “He used his friendship to get a scoop? That's not very decent of him...”

 

“That wasn't his reason. He wanted to warn me about you actually! Arthur, he's heard rumours of an allegation that you used bribes to gain planning permission to start fracking in Bearsden.”

 

“What? That's nonsense!” Arthur croaked. “I would never...”

 

“Of course you wouldn't, darling. Your father would never have condoned illegal business dealings within the firm and neither would you, but that doesn't mean the story isn't going about.” A note of anxiety had crept into his mother's voice. “Arthur, I think you should come home.”

 

“But we're almost done here. Besides, there will always be rumours. The best way is to ignore them and they usually go away.”

 

There was a moment of silence and Arthur imagined his mother composing herself. “Not this time. Wayne told me that two people have given corroborating statements...”

 

“Then they're lying. It's not true!” Arthur spat out, his anger building.

 

“We both know that. But someone is trying to undermine you and Camelot Industries...”

 

“And they've picked their moment, what with Dad being ill.” Now it was Arthur's turn to pause. After a few moments of consideration he made a decision. “Alright, Mum. I'll come home. Drew and Merlin can finish up here. I'll fly back first thing tomorrow morning. I'd return tonight, but I need to warn the crew. Sit tight and we'll sort out this mess tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, Arthur. I would've tried to fix it myself, but I have to be here for your father.”

 

“I understand, Mum. Anyway, the accusations are levelled at me,” he said, frustration sharpening his words. “Can you get hold of Wayne and ask him to meet with me tomorrow? Maybe he can shed some light on these allegations.”

 

“He's still here... at the hospital. I know he has a job to do, but I do trust him. I think he means to do right by us.”

 

“Good. I'd better get off now. Take care, Mum, and tell Dad I love him. See you soon.”

 

The phone call was quickly finished and Arthur turned to see four people staring at him quizzically.

 

“We have another problem. It seems we're under multiple attacks.” Arthur crossed the floor and dropped into an easy chair, blowing out his lips as he sat. “There's been some accusations that I used bribery to obtain planning permission to drill for shale gas in Bearsden.”

 

“Who said that?” Gwen asked indignantly.

 

Arthur shrugged. “At the moment, I have no idea, but a journalist friend of Anna's approached my mother at the hospital to let her know about it.”

 

“But surely no one will take any notice of an unsubstantiated allegation?” Drew asked, sitting in a chair across from his troubled friend.

 

“They will if there's more than one...”

 

“That's nonsense!” Gwen balanced herself on the wide arm of Arthur's chair, taking hold of his hand. She understood that this was something too important to ignore. “Does Anna's friend know the source of the allegations?”

 

“According to Mother, he didn't say... which is why I have to get back to Cardiff to ask him.”

 

“Do you think he'll tell you?” Gwen asked again.

 

“Mother thinks he wants to help. We can only wait and see. I never met him, but I heard he had a bit of a crush on Anna once... which might or might not be helpful, knowing the way she treats her boyfriends. But if he won't help, then I'll have to investigate for myself.”

 

“Which is why I'm coming with you,” Merlin stated firmly.

 

“No! Sorry, Merlin my friend, but you're needed here. Drew can finish off the diving, but he can't cleanse the waters of the chemicals.”

 

Merlin looked doubtful. “Arthur, if these accusations are instigated by the same person who enchanted the waters, then he has powerful magic. You shouldn't go up against him alone.”

 

“But we don't know that. This legal attack could come from a totally different source.”

 

Drew shook his head, leaning forward and placing his arms on his knees. “You've got to admit it's a bit of a coincidence. I mean, you must've made those planning applications months ago because the plant's up and running. Why wait till now to come forward?”

 

“Drew does have a point, Arthur,” Merlin concurred, drawing his fingers abstractedly along the kitchen counter at his side. “I don't like the idea of you going against a sorcerer on your own. We've already lost Anna.”

 

“Well, he won't be alone because I'm definitely going,” Gwen announced, sending Arthur a defiant look.

 

“May I make a suggestion?” Freya finally joined the discussion.

 

“Be my guest,” Arthur waved her forward. “Since it seems my employees are ganging up against me.”

 

“Merlin, why don't you leave Aunt Fiona to purify the water? I'm sure she's perfectly capable of managing on her own. It means you can help Arthur while Drew, Fiona and I finish off up here.”

 

A sense of disappointment welled up in Merlin. He had every confidence in Fiona's magical abilities, but he didn't want to leave without Freya. Yet Arthur was answering for him.

 

“That's a great idea, Freya.”

 

“But I thought you planned on returning to Cardiff with us?” Merlin asked, unable to hide his dismay.

 

“I am, but it shouldn't be much longer before I can follow you.”

 

“Freya's right,” Drew put forward his suggestion. “We've only a couple of small islands left to work on. It should only take two more days at the most.”

 

Arthur stood up, almost unseating Gwen, but he put his arm around her shoulder to steady her. “Right. Are you OK with that, Merlin?” At his friend's ambivalent nod, he continued. “Then that's the plan. Gwen, Merlin and I will go back tomorrow morning and I'll send the plane back to Glasgow the day after tomorrow. If anything unforeseen happens which hinders you, then it can wait around for a day or two. I doubt I'll be needing it again in the near future. We can use a normal airline to fly to Paris, though I expect you'll be back in Cardiff by the time we're ready to go look for Anna.”

 

“Assuming she hasn't turned up by then,” Gwen added hopefully.

 

“Of course.” He looked tenderly down at Gwen, though by the sound of Arthur's voice she knew he didn't believe that would happen. However, he smiled and rubbed his hands. “OK, now we've sorted that out, do you think we can have dinner. I'm starved!”

 

 

*****

 

 

The trio arrived in Cardiff by noon the next day and took a taxi directly to the hospital where Ygraine was waiting for her son. Given the circumstances it was an emotional reunion, though perhaps not on the scale of Merlin's meeting with Gaius. While Ygraine led Arthur and Gwen off to visit Benedict, Gaius escorted Merlin to his office where they could talk in private.

 

Behind closed doors, Merlin exclaimed, overwhelmed by affection, “God, Gaius! This is incredible!”

 

“My dear... dear boy,” the silver-haired doctor muttered, pulling Merlin into his arms as the younger man gladly hugged him back with an intensity owing to hundreds of years of futile searching. “Good Lord. You’re almost squashing me!” he protested after a minute, while a silent tear of joy made its way down his wrinkled cheek.

 

At once contrite, the warlock slackened his grip. “Sorry! But it's your own fault, you know. I've missed you too much for too long,” Merlin admitted quietly, wiping his eyes dry, but still beaming at the old gentleman.

 

“And I you. You were always the son I never had,” Gaius said, patting Merlin’s shoulders fondly. “Come on, let me have a proper look at you.” He stepped back to scan Merlin's lanky form from top to toe. “Same ears, same grin, same unruly hair. You're scarcely any different than when you first came to me in Camelot. How do you manage to look so young?” 

 

“You wouldn't have said that if you'd met me a few years ago. Imagine a homeless Dragoon.” He laughed as he spoke, talking past the lump which had formed in his throat. “Gaius, you look exactly as I imagined you. Perhaps with a little less hair.” Merlin's head shook from side to side. “I've looked for you so often. I can hardly believe you're here. Is this the first time you've been reborn?”

 

Gaius paused for thought before saying slowly, “I believe so. At least, the first time I'm aware of my past life... and even then, I didn't realise for many years.”

 

“Your memories came back in dreams?” Merlin asked, still avidly taking in his old mentor's face: the familiar lines on his forehead and the bags beneath his eyes, the quirky eyebrow which was so much a unique facet of Gaius.

 

“They did,” Gaius nodded as he finally walked past Merlin and sat at his desk. “I didn't actually associate them with reincarnation... not in the beginning, but I couldn't ignore the clarity of them. Dreams are often random and disconnected, but my experience was very different. I always dreamt of the same time and place, of the same people. Uther, Arthur and you. That suggested to me that they weren't normal dreams, but what really clinched it was when I saw Arthur Penderel on television. I believe he was being interviewed about rescuing some of his employees who'd been held hostage after a raid on one of Camelot's oil rigs. I recognised him at once and went and checked up on the rest of his family. I couldn't believe my eyes when I discovered Uther and Morgana... even Ygraine. That's when I moved from Edinburgh to Cardiff and Vale...”

 

“You lived in Scotland?”

 

“I was born and raised there and apart from a number of years spent in London, it's been my home.” Gaius joined his hands together as he looked up at Merlin, still smiling. “However, once I realised, I decided to move to Cardiff to be closer to those whom I'd known in Camelot so long ago. It seemed the right thing to do. In my heart of hearts, I was hoping to find you...”

 

“Did you never meet up with the Penderels before Benedict was sick?”

 

“Well, I did attend a benefit dinner once where Ygraine and Benedict were the guests of honour.” Gaius laughed at the memory; he wasn't exactly comfortable with black tie events. “But let's just say that the head of the Stroke Unit doesn't exactly mix in the same social circles as the mighty Penderels, captains of industry and one of the richest families in the country.”

 

“And yet we're all together again. I can't tell you how happy I am.” Merlin came and sat in a chair opposite the physician. “It's the best thing to happen to me in... oh, forever, but there is a reason, Gaius.”

 

“I never doubted it. The prophecy was that the Once and Future King would return when his country needed him most. I've no idea what the danger is, but I take it that magic is involved?”

 

“It is, Gaius,” Merlin sat on the edge of his seat, his eyes still bright with laughter and tears. They might have many problems to solve but he couldn't deny the future seemed more auspicious now that Gaius was by his side. “I have to admit I'm not sure about the country and Arthur isn't exactly royal this time around, but Camelot Industries and the Penderels are under attack by one or more powerful sorcerers.”

 

“Have you any idea who?” Gaius asked, his lined face taut. Until lately, he'd assumed that magic had gone from the world and he wasn't sure that he welcomed its return. The world seemed to be in a fairly troubled state without the return of sorcery. If only all magic users were as unselfish and caring as the man before him, he'd embrace it gladly... but there were always venal sorcerers who sought to use their powers for their own gain.

 

“We think Morgause is involved somehow... and we discovered a ring with the raven crest of Cornelius Sigan on it in Argyll. We believe he's the one who has enchanted the waters.”

 

“Hoping to discredit the Penderels?”

 

Gaius's quick riposte proved to Merlin that his old mentor hadn't lost any of his sharpness. “That's our guess... and it also seems very coincidental that there's a new energy company called Sigan Fuels making a bid to increase its market share.”

 

“An alliance between Morgause and Sigan doesn't bode well for the rest of us. They're both powerful sorcerers.”

 

“And Morgause is trying to recruit Morgana,” Merlin announced. “Anna Penderel has disappeared and she was last seen in Paris with Eloise Blessed, who we believe to be Morgause.”

 

“I know. Ygraine told me.”

 

“If Morgause succeeds in converting Morgana to her side, then we'll be facing an unholy trinity,” Merlin's hands tightened into fists and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I'm more powerful than I was in Camelot days but I'm still not sure I can prevail against the three of them.”

 

Gaius gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ah, my boy, I see you still doubt your powers. You shouldn't, Merlin. I have faith in you. I always did.” He leaned towards Merlin and changed the subject slightly. “But why do you think Anna should turn against her family? According to Ygraine, they have a very close bond...”

 

“But what if Morgause reminds her of her past life? Won't she become Morgana again with all that entails?” Merlin asked, unable to dismiss this possibility. He'd never met Anna, so couldn't share Arthur's or Gwen's blind faith in their sister and friend.

 

“But Anna has no reason to turn on her adopted family in this life. She knows she's loved and accepted for who she is. Never underestimate the power of love, Merlin. It can change many things.”

 

A sad smile broke through Merlin's doubt. “You and Kilgarrah told me that many centuries ago... and yet, Arthur died.”

 

“It was his destiny... and yours. Gwen brought back magic to the kingdom and Camelot flowered under her rule for many years. Perhaps Arthur had to die for that to happen.” Behind his glasses, Gaius's weary eyes watered, remembering the legendary reign of a bright young king who'd died much too soon. “Merlin, I've no more sure answers now than I had back then. Do we even know if Anna has magic?”

 

“No, we don't, but most of the magic users who've been reborn have a certain amount of magic still. Mind you, she might not even realise that herself. How about you, Gaius? Do you have magic?”

 

Gaius considered before answering, “I believe I might, though I've no idea how to use it. I was never an instinctive warlock like you. No one ever was. We might have had a latent gift but most of us needed to be taught.”

 

“Morgana and Mordred were born with the gift.”

 

“True... but Morgana couldn't control it. She needed Morgause to teach her that skill. As to Mordred, we can't be sure how much teaching the Druids gave him.” The doctor paused for a second, his one eyebrow lifting. “Are you saying Mordred has been reincarnated?”

 

“He has, but this time he's on our side. He even apologised to Arthur for being responsible for his death and I'm sure he's telling the truth. He just wants a chance to prove himself.”

 

“And he has magic in this life?”

 

“Yes, but like yours, it's mostly dormant. He's asked me to coach him in magic.” Merlin's gaze dropped to the floor at his last statement, alerting Gaius to the fact that he wasn't quite as sure of Mordred's conversion as he'd said. But within seconds, his eyes came back to Gaius's. “I could teach you too, Gaius. It shouldn't be hard - more just reminding you of how you used it in the past. It'll be like riding a bike. You never forget.”

 

“Merlin, I've never ridden a bike!”

 

“Never?” This time Merlin's eyebrows rose. “Not even when you were a child?”

 

Gaius grinned. “Perhaps then...” His words died as something Merlin had mentioned earlier suddenly hit him. “Merlin, how many other magic users have you met in this life?”

 

At the question, a wide grin spread across Merlin's face and his eyes twinkled. He couldn't help but tease his old mentor a little. “Now, let's see. Who would you be most interested in? I've just met Freya again, in Scotland...”

 

Gaius rose. “Merlin, that's wonderful. And I hope she's free of curses this time.”

 

“She is!” The huge smile appeared stuck on Merlin's face. “She also has an aunt who knows a bit about magic... particularly the healing sort. Her name is Fiona MacDougall, but once, a very long time ago, it was... Alice!” He ended on a flourish and was thrilled to see a shocked, but tentative smile dawn on Gaius's features.

 

“Alice! Alice?” At that, Gaius sat down again. “Since I remembered, I've often wondered about Alice. She's alive... and she has magic?”

 

“Oh yes and she's already helping us.” Merlin jumped up excitedly. “Gaius, she can't wait to meet you again.”

 

Unfortunately, Gaius seemed less certain. “You've already told her about me?” At Merlin's nod, he hurried on. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea. She might not like Dr Richard Grayson... and I'm afraid that's the only person I know how to be these days.”

 

“That's not true, Gaius. Even without knowing of your past life, you chose a healing profession... which has to mean something,” Merlin said wisely. “Alice has as well, if in a less conventional manner.”

 

“She's a doctor too?”

 

Merlin shrugged. “Not exactly. She's a homoeopathic healer who uses her... other skills without her patients' knowledge.”

 

“She does? Is that ethical?”

 

“Gaius! You can hardly expect her to advertise her use of magic. People would think she was nuts... and she has to make a living for herself.”

 

“I suppose you're correct... and I don't dismiss homoeopathy, at least, not since I've been aware of my first life. After all, most of my time was spent perfecting potions from plants back then... and many of them worked.”

 

“She wants to meet you, Gaius, but I don't think she's expecting any professions of love or anything. She's much too sensible a lady for that. You won't let her down, will you?”

 

“In that case, it would be extremely crass of me to object.” At last, Gaius smiled genuinely, if somewhat shyly. “My oh, my! Who would have believed it? We shall all be reunited... but Merlin, do you ever wonder why?”

 

At the question, Merlin barely stirred, catching Gaius's alarmed stare with his own troubled eyes. “That's what scares me. So far, we supposedly have Cornelius Sigan causing waters to bubble and boil in order to discredit a rival company and gain money and prestige; Anna Penderel likely has been kidnapped by a reborn Morgause for reasons of her own, though most probably revenge... These people are evil, but surely Albion has faced more dangerous problems in the last hundred years and Arthur did not return. I'm not sure either situation warrants enough to herald the rebirth of The Once and Future King.” He stood erect, every inch a warlock without equal. “There must be something else. What is it we are not seeing?”

 

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a number of kudos from guests during the week, so thank you very much. You make me happy and spur me on to post. Take care everyone.


	22. Rumours and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is shocked and depressed by the sight of his father, but his mother strengthens his resolve.
> 
> Again the plot thickens as more adversaries are drawn into the mix... and one more hero.
> 
> As before, telepathic talks are shown in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My visitors have gone and I'm managing to post. However, I'm not sure if I can post this coming week. It might be November before I can put up another chapter. Sorry for the delay, but my life is about to get more hectic for a week or two.

Chapter Twenty-two

 

Rumours and Lies

 

While Merlin was closeted with Gaius, Arthur had gone to be with his father. His first reaction when he'd entered the private room had been one of shock. Within the bed, surrounded by various digital machines monitoring his progress, Benedict looked ashen pale, sadly shrunken from the healthy, robust person he had been only a few days before.

 

Arthur felt his stomach lurch and distress coloured every stark angle of his face as he moved into the room to take a chair next his father's bed. Ygraine, coming to stand beside him, laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and leaning over the bed, she called softly to Benedict.

 

“My love, here is Arthur come to visit you. Have you no word for him?”

 

For a few interminable seconds, the prone man remained unresponsive, until very slowly, as if his eyelids weighed too heavily upon him, Benedict opened his eyes and turned his head with great effort towards the voice of his wife. His mouth opened too, but no sound came forth.

 

“Father!” Arthur forced the one word through his tight lips, aching with equal measures of sorrow and fear. Over the past few days, he'd been told his father was improving, so he'd been unprepared for the sight of a man who'd barely won his fight with death. But now was not the time to dwell upon his own uncertain feelings. Instead, he took Benedict's limp left hand between his own strong grip and smiling, he found his voice. “Hello, Dad. It's so good to see you. Whatever have you been doing to yourself?” he asked teasingly.

 

Benedict's mouth twisted in a parody of his once hearty grin... and he croaked something which might have been his son's name. Yet, within moments, his hand weakly snatched at the younger man's, while a shadow of anxiety darkened his glance and a tic twitched in his waxen face.

 

“It's alright, Dad.” Arthur instinctively interpreted Benedict's helpless distress. “Everything is under control. We've found the source of the problem on Easdale and are putting things right. Camelot Industries is in the clear. The water turbulence had nothing to do with our plant at Bearsden. You've nothing to fear. I'm taking charge and I'll do everything to ensure your company is still there waiting for your return.” He soothed his father's claw-like hand and, at last, Benedict let go, his eyes closing once more as his head fell back to the pillow.

 

Arthur turned to Ygraine. “Mum?”

 

“Don't worry, dearest. He's only asleep. Richard says we have to expect that for a while yet. Your father has undergone a massive trauma and normal sleep can help him recover.” She gave him a tearful but encouraging smile. “You've settled his mind and now you must let him rest.”

 

“I want to stay with him for now... if I may?”

 

It was clear to her that Arthur needed to spend time with Benedict for his own sake as much as his father's. “Of course you do. Why don't I send Gwen in to keep you company while I get in touch with Wayne McGuire. He does want to talk to you, but it has to be soon, or there's every chance he'll be scooped.”

 

Arthur's mouth took on a mulish pout. “Oh, heaven forbid a reporter loses his exclusive on a juicy story...”

 

“No, Arthur! Stop!” Even keeping her voice soft, Ygraine could command. “Wayne didn't need to tell us what was happening. He's trying to help, but he does have a job to do and a living to make. You mustn't judge him. Besides, if you're hostile towards him from the start, he most likely won't co-operate.”

 

For a few moments, Arthur challenged his mother's disapproving glare, until his whole body loosened, like a puppet which had lost its strings. “You're right, of course. I've never met this guy, so I shouldn't judge... and like you said, he could have written his story without giving us a chance to refute it.” He heaved a mournful sigh. “It's just that everything is going wrong at once... and so fast. God knows I've handled crisis before... but I always had Dad to back me up.”

 

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Ygraine took hold of Arthur's free hand. “I understand exactly how you feel because I feel it too. Your father's been at my side for over thirty years and he's always been the strong one.” She turned to the man in the bed, bestowing upon him a look that was full of a deep and abiding love, then she focused on Arthur again. “Now it's our turn to lend him our support... and we still have each other. But you mustn't doubt yourself, Arthur. You are tough and courageous... and you haven't needed your father's assistance for quite some time. He's been so proud of you. We both have. And you're not alone. You have friends... and perhaps a girlfriend, if I've read the situation right, who will follow and help you whatever troubles you might face.”

 

“I'm sorry. I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well since this whole nightmare began. I guess I was indulging in a little self-pity.” Arthur squeezed his mother's hand and stood up, stretching his taut muscles. “But no more! There's work to be done if we mean to save Camelot for Dad and bring Anna home. Please get in touch with Wayne and tell him I'll be happy to talk to him as soon as he can make it... and I will behave.” Then Arthur's face broke into a rueful smile. “And I'd be grateful for Gwen's company. You're right again. We're no longer platonic friends. To tell the truth, we never were and I don't know why I didn't admit it sooner. I love her and I want to marry her.”

 

Now Ygraine gave way to tears, something she'd been doing quite frequently these past days, but these were happy tears. “Oh, Arthur, I'm very glad for you. Your father and I had always hoped... You're so right for each other. Out of all the troubles that we face, at least, one good thing has come out of it.”

 

Mother and son embraced and Arthur held his mother gently as she cried, her sobs a mixture of relief and worry. Then Arthur set his hands on Ygraine's shoulders and said solemnly. “There have been a number of happy outcomes to set against our difficulties. Drew is back in the UK and helping me; Dad is in the hands of the physician who has taken care of him for centuries... and I've found Merlin. We shouldn't despair. Together we can triumph over any adversary.”

 

To himself, Arthur added, “Or die trying.”

 

Before he'd become aware of his reincarnation, the young Arthur Penderel had given very little thought to his mortality. Now he knew that many people died long before they should and that being in the right didn't necessarily lend them any special immunity.

 

 

*****

 

Wayne showed up while Arthur and Gwen were catching up on something to eat in the hospital café, soon after Merlin had joined them. They were sitting by the window, in silence, lost in their own thoughts, with only Merlin facing towards the entrance.

 

The dark, long haired journalist stopped just inside the door and looked around, finding his quarry within moments of arriving so that he had time to study the trio without being seen.

 

Arthur he recognised at once by his golden hair and finely crafted features that he'd seen often in photographs both in the public and private domain; Anna had been fond of her brother. Having done his research, Wayne knew that the arched browed, olive-skinned woman, whose hand Arthur clung to, was Gwen Armour, Arthur's PA. The third member of the group, however, was unknown to him, yet the thick mop of black hair, fringing too large ears and pale face were familiar... and the long, rangy legs which stuck out awkwardly from under the table evoked strange pictures in his mind of a clumsy young man stumbling around ancient passageways.

 

Wayne shook his head, his shining hair swinging like a model's about his face, trying to dislodge the fantasy which threatened to overcome him. He was here to do a job and to warn a friend of a friend about a plot being forged against him, though he couldn't be sure, except that his reporter's instincts were screaming skulduggery.

 

His step firm, Wayne plunged into what he suddenly but inexplicably thought of as his quest and, as he neared the table, the dark haired man looked up, their gazes connecting with something like a bolt of electricity.

 

“Gwaine!” exclaimed the thin guy, rising to his feet and attracting the attention of his fellow diners.

 

“ _Merlin?”_ That one word, resonating with cynical astonishment inside his head proved that this hard-headed member of the press wasn't about to take anything at face value, particularly the appearance of a long dead character from a legend. With a voice edged with scepticism, he introduced himself. “I'm afraid you got it wrong, mate. My name's Wayne McGuire, and I've come to talk to your friend here.”

 

Regardless of his somewhat skinny frame, the man addressed seemed to deflate as he answered. “Yes, sorry. My mistake. My name's Rhys Wilson and I work for Mr Penderel.” Merlin put aside his disappointment and stuck out his hand to the newcomer.

 

Beside him, Arthur stood. “Hey, Rhys, what's with the formality, all of a sudden?” Quickly turning to Wayne McGuire, he greeted him. “I'm Arthur and you must be Anna's friend?”

 

“ _It's Gwaine!”_ Merlin's anxious comment rung telepathically in Arthur's ears.

 

“ _I know! I'm not blind. I recognised him too... but, judging from his reaction, he doesn't... or he's not about to admit it,”_ Arthur added with unexpected insight. _“Merlin, give the man a break. It's not every day you're confronted by a thousand year old myth! Now smile and say hello. Whether he's prepared to acknowledge he's Gwaine or not, Wayne has information which we need.”_

 

“ _I suppose.”_ Merlin shrugged spiritually and then did as he was told... much to Arthur's surprise.

 

“Can I get you something to eat... or drink?” Arthur asked, waiting while Wayne sat down before sitting again himself.

 

“A coffee would be good. Black.” Wayne smiled briefly, letting his glance stray around the table to settle with admiration on the woman.

 

Remembering Gwaine's flirtatious nature and that his fancy had once rested on Guinevere, Arthur said a little proprietorial, “This lady is Gwen Armour, my Personal Assistant... and, hopefully, my intended.”

 

At once, Wayne's eyebrows rose at the old-fashioned expression, while Gwen threw Arthur a slightly quizzical look, which he returned with an intimate yet hopeful stare.

 

“Though that's perhaps a bit presumptuous,” Arthur acknowledged, still staring at Gwen, “But I won't deny my feelings.” Gwen blushed, saying nothing, though her tender smile spoke volumes. Clearly, she wasn't totally averse to his assumption. Arthur held Gwen's gaze for a long moment, before addressing the reporter again. “Coffee it is.” And he strode off to the counter of the self-service cafe.

 

“How long have you been a reporter?” Merlin enquired, smiling in his most friendly manner.

 

“Since I left college... though it's taken me a few years to earn the reputation I have today.”

 

“Do you work for a specific news outlet?” Gwen decided to back Merlin's bid to interact with Wayne.

 

“No. Like Anna, I'm freelance. I prefer the freedom to choose my own projects.”

 

“Do you know Anna well?” Gwen asked, casting her mind back over Anna's long list of boyfriends. She had a vague memory of Anna mentioning a Wayne, but, like Arthur, she'd never been introduced.

 

“What is this, the third degree?” Wayne countered, unwilling to reveal he still had feelings for a woman who'd long since dropped him like a hot potato. He eased edgily forward in his seat. “I've known Anna for a long time... but we're just friends.” Thankfully, he was rescued from answering any further questions by Arthur's return. Wayne accepted the mug of coffee and, taking a sip, he tried to compose his wayward thoughts.

 

Reseating himself, Arthur took charge of the conversation. “Thanks for coming, Wayne. My mother tells me you've information for me.” He rocked in his chair, balancing on its two back legs, and said forthrightly. “I'd appreciate anything you can tell me about these false accusations.”

 

Wayne nodded, emptying a couple of sachets of sugar into his mug and idly watching the liquid swirl as he stirred. “I only have your word that they're false.”

 

“True,” Arthur conceded. “You don't know me. I could be a dishonest business man who doesn't mind resorting to illegal tactics to get my own way... yet you must have your doubts, or you wouldn't be here.”

 

Again Wayne shrugged. “Like I told your employees, I'm a friend of your sister, who happens to be as honest as the day is long.” The reporter's brooding grin held a tinge of disappointment, remembering why their blossoming romance had ended: he uncomfortable with Anna's wealth and she eager to make her own way in the world without the backing of that same wealth. Neither had been ready to commit. Yet he'd never forgotten her. “Anyway I'm prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I've been around long enough to know when something smells fishy.”

 

“Then can you tell us what you've discovered?” Arthur asked, his eyes candid and friendly. “I promise to restrain my overzealous friends from asking you any personal questions.” Though he understood Merlin and Gwen were only trying to establish if Wayne meant well by them and perhaps to prompt him to recollect his days as a Knight of The Round Table, Arthur was willing to forgo both these details for information.

 

There was a few minutes silence while Wayne considered his position. He couldn't help but be aware of the strange undercurrents which were swirling about him... as if these three were holding back some intelligence of their own. Oh well, when in doubt... and perhaps, if he gave something, they'd be more inclined to open up.

 

“Fine. I'll tell you what I've been able to find out.” Wayne turned his shrewd gaze directly on Arthur. “Very recently, the authorities received an anonymous tip off from one of your staff, saying he'd witnessed you offering bribes to some members of the East Dumbarton Planning Committee regarding a prospective fracking plant in their area.”

 

“Anonymous!” Arthur's bark was derisive. “Don't they know who?”

 

“No! But from the information he gave them, I'd say he works... or worked at the Bearsden Plant.” Wayne leaned forward, cradling his cup with his hands. “Do you have any disgruntled employees, or perhaps you've sacked someone recently who might want payback?”

 

“I... don't... think so.” Arthur drew the words out. “Contrary to some people's opinion, I actually get along with most of my staff.” He grinned at both Gwen and Merlin, before squinting at the reporter. “But why would the regulators be interested in a single anonymous accusation?”

 

“Because it's been corroborated twice and not anonymously.”

 

The front legs of Arthur's chair hit the floor with a loud thud. “That's impossible! It didn't happen.” Arthur's blue eyes blazed ice cold. “Who?”

 

“The leader of the Planning Committee,” Wayne said earnestly as he pulled a small but well-eared notebook out of his pocket and rifled through it until he found what he was looking for. “She's called Hilda Grun, a frumpy old maid who seems to have an unimpeachable reputation. She swears that you approached her with an offer of a great deal of money in return for persuading the rest of the panel to award planning permission to your proposal.”

 

“That's a lie!”

 

“She incriminated herself?” Merlin's question and Arthur's sharp statement came at Wayne in stereo.

 

“Hey! Don't shout at me. I'm just the messenger.”

 

Arthur had the grace to blush. “Sorry! But I don't care whether her reputation has been whiter than snow in the past, she's not telling the truth now... and what did she do with the money I'm supposed to have paid her? I'm assuming they tried to trace it.”

 

“Ah, that's where it gets strange. She says she didn't take your money, but she approved anyway because she believes shale gas is one way of keeping fuel prices down and the plant would be good for the economy of the district. Besides, she also claims that the planning officer in charge of your application advised the committee to pass your proposal.”

 

“So this upstanding local politician refused the money and gave permission out of a sense of responsibility, ignoring the fact that bribery and corruption are illegal,” Arthur said sarcastically and dropped his head into his hands.

 

“And why did she take so long to report Arthur?” Gwen asked, her tone also disbelieving.

 

“Now that is the six-million dollar question.” Wayne grinned as he spoke and gave Gwen an approving wink.

 

“Who else reported Arthur?” Merlin asked thoughtfully as he joined the conversation. “You mentioned the accusation was substantiated twice.”

 

“That would be the planning officer.” Wayne quickly checked his notes again. “Leonard Cameron.”

 

“And did he take my money?” Arthur raised his head, a frown wrinkling his smooth brow.

 

“He doesn't think so.”

 

“What?” Merlin exclaimed, since Arthur was speechless. “Surely that's not something you would forget.”

 

“True. Also, when he agreed to talk to me, I questioned him about why he hadn't reported the bribe immediately.”

 

“Don't tell me,” Arthur ground out. “He's not sure about that either.”

 

“Again true. When I asked him about details of your meeting, it's obvious he has no clear recollection of you offering him money... but he is adamant it happened and lately he's felt compelled to speak out.”

 

Gwen moved closer to support her victimised boyfriend, asking in her soft voice, “I take it this Mr Cameron also has an unblemished reputation?”

 

“You'd be right,” Wayne answered, nodding. “And I have to admit, he seemed like a straight up guy, who's completely stumped by his own actions. He has no idea why he kept quiet for so long, or why, under the circumstances, he recommended the application be upheld.”

 

“ _Merlin, could this Cameron guy have been 'compelled' to come forward by someone with sorcery?”_ Arthur's anxious voice whispered in Merlin's head.

 

“ _I suppose it's possible. Cornelius Sigan controlled Cedric by possessing him. If he's back in the world, it could be he's using someone else's body rather than a normal reincarnation, but, according to Wayne, this Cameron seems to be pretty decent.”_

 

“ _Decent!”_ Arthur barked telepathically. _“He's willing to perjure himself to incriminate me.”_

 

“ _You were the one who suggested he might have been forced into that...”_

 

“ _Yes. You're right. No matter what, I think we have to have a chat with this Planning Officer.”_

 

Meanwhile, Wayne was taking advantage of the lull in the conversation to finish his coffee before delivering his final piece of information. “Don't ask me my opinion of Ms Grun, because she hasn't returned my calls or texts, but I have spoken to a number of her colleagues and not many believe she's as altruistic as she pretends. In fact, she's a bit of a dark horse. No one seems to know her well and they seem to prefer it that way. That's all I can tell you for now, so if you'll excuse me, I still have work to do.”

 

He pushed back from the table to rise, but Arthur placed his hand on Wayne's arm. “Thank you for meeting with us. At least we know who the informers are which is a lot more than we did yesterday.” Arthur looked up at the reporter, trying to gauge whether Wayne was as honest and determined as his earlier alter-ego, Gwaine. The brown eyes which returned his scrutiny might be brash but they were clear and without guile. “Will you let us know if you find out any further information?”

 

There was another long pause, before Wayne finally replied, “Sure. I'll be in touch, meanwhile say hi to Anna for me.”

 

“I wish I could... but, unfortunately, we have no idea where she is.” Arthur frowned as he spoke and his lips thinned.

 

“What does that mean?” And Wayne sat down heavily again.

 

“It means that Anna's missing,” Merlin offered, his restless fingers tapping the table. There were too many untoward complications happening and he was afraid their troubles were escalating. “We know she was in Paris a few days ago but since then she's disappeared and she hasn't been in touch with any of her friends or family.”

 

“Her father's seriously ill and Anna hasn't come home?” Wayne's eyes narrowed in shocked speculation. “They might not always see eye-to-eye, but I know how much Anna loves him. If she hasn't been in contact, then it means she's in trouble,” he stated, his voice no longer casual. “OK, how can I help?”

 

In his head, Merlin smiled. _“Courage, magic and strength! The trio is united, Arthur.”_

 

Arthur glanced over, his shoulders giving an infinitesimal shrug. _“Yeah... and it seems we're already in The Perilous Lands. Shit! Bring on the wyverns.”_

 

“ _I'm a dragonlord. I can control wyverns,” Merlin countered._

 

“ _That's comforting, but do you have any ideas how to get me out of this particular mess?”_

 

“ _I know magic, but you know the corporate boardroom. You can take the lead on this one. I've got your back, if that helps.”_

 

“ _Thanks, Merlin. Nice to know you think I'm still good for something.”_

 

“ _Don't mention it.”_

 

 

_*****_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hits are now over a thousand, which is good for me, I think, and the number of kudos has gone up also. Thank you for leaving kudos. You do make me happy, but it would be lovely to read what you actually think about my story. I'm toying with a sequel, though I'm not sure there's enough interest left for Merlin stories... at least, Merlin stories written by me. My muse is also very weak these days. There's just so much going on in my life which is distracting.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	23. Sleuthing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As everyone heads off in different directions, Arthur stays home to investigate the financial state of his company. He has to make an important decision which perhaps isn't is his own best interests. Old colleagues reappear, but are they friend or foe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I returned home tonight but couldn't sleep, so decided to post another chapter. I hope you like it.
> 
> As always, telecommunications are in italics.

Chapter Twenty-three

 

Sleuthing

 

 

It was decided that a division of forces was necessary to combat the growing number of challenges facing Arthur, Merlin and their new band of the Knights of Camelot. Gwen would go north, where she would be met by Freya and together they would question Ms Grun and Mr Cameron about their dishonest accusations, while Merlin and Wayne would head to Paris in search of Anna, leaving Arthur to deal with the allegations of bribery and corruption. He also had to face the members of Camelot's board, who were beginning to grow restive.

 

If Arthur was sad to part with Gwen quite so soon after they'd rediscovered their relationship, it was due to his maturity in this life and his complete trust in Gwen's fidelity and competence that he said goodbye to her with equanimity. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist giving her a final warning.

 

“Be careful, Gwen,” he whispered into her curling hair, his voice tinged with a modicum of worry. He held her close, her soft curves fitting with ease against his hard-tempered body. “One or both these people you're going to meet might be sorcerers. Take care because I couldn't bear to lose you now.”  
  
“I know the risks, Arthur, and I promise to be vigilant. Besides, I won't be alone. Freya will be there to help me.”

 

He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and scanned her beloved face. “Forgive me for fussing. It's just that I love you so much.”

 

Gwen smiled indulgently. “I know... and I love it that you care enough to fuss, but I'm not a hot house plant and I can look after myself.” She leaned up and planted one last kiss on his lips. “Now I have to leave, or the plane will miss its take off slot.”

 

Letting her go, he watched her walk through the gate, but he shouted, just before she disappeared. “Keep in touch. If you need help, go to Drew... He's not far away.”

 

“I will.” With a final wave, she hurried down the stairs that led to the tarmac where Camelot's private plane awaited her.

 

Forlorn, Arthur stared at the space she had vacated for a moment, before shaking himself and, turning on his heel, went to find the departure lounge to bid farewell and good hunting to Merlin and Wayne.

 

He offered Merlin much the same warning he'd given Gwen, and the warlock had returned the favour. _“I should say the same to you. I don't like leaving you in Cardiff without the protection of magic.”_

 

“ _Merlin, I'm facing a board of stuffy old business associates and lawyers. What could go wrong?”_ Then he grinned. _“Don't answer that!”_

 

Aloud, for the benefit of Wayne, he said. “You two keep in touch. Let me know the minute you find any news of Eloise... or Anna. If I can wind things up here, I'll follow you to Paris as soon as possible.”

 

“No worries, mate,” Wayne answered. “Tracing people and their dirty little secrets is what I do for a living... and I'm not being vain when I say I'm pretty good at my job. If Anna's in Paris, we'll find her.”

 

“ _Yeah, but he has no idea he's up against dark magic. Look out for him, Merlin. I'd like Wayne to live long enough to remember his past life with us.”_

 

“ _You have my word, Arthur.”_ Merlin stuck out his arm and, without thought, Arthur clasped it, forearm to forearm in the ancient salute.

 

The final call for the flight for Paris echoed around the concourse, prompting Arthur to say, “That's your flight. You'd better go. Bye for now... and Wayne, thanks for offering to help. I won't forget.”

 

Swinging his cabin bag on his shoulder, Wayne touched his forehead in a sloppy salute. “Cheerio... and good luck in the boardroom. I don't envy you your battlefield.”

 

Once again, Arthur watched his friends leave, hearing Merlin's voice in his head as he swung around to go.

 

“ _Be careful! Don't you dare get yourself killed while I'm away.”_ Arthur didn't reply, but Merlin could feel his self-conscious laughter in his heart. Arthur might be learning, but even in this life his friend occasionally kept his emotions close to his chest.

 

*****

 

From the airport, Arthur returned to Camelot's headquarters to meet with the CFO to discuss how the accusations against him would affect the running of the company and how best to deal with them.

 

Annie Carr was already waiting for him in his outer office when he arrived and it was plain to see she was anxious about the current state of the embattled firm. Her lustreless auburn hair escaped from the dated French-roll she customarily adopted, while her tailored dark blue suit appeared somewhat wrinkled.

 

“Arthur, thank goodness! Have you any idea what's happening and how these rumours are upsetting the members of the board? They're demanding an urgent meeting...”

 

The young man so addressed stood arrested in the doorway. With knowledge of his earlier life he had no difficulty in recognising this harassed lady as the one-time Queen Annis of Carleon. Had all of his friends and associates been resurrected from his past life? Would he get in a taxi one day soon and find his driver was Tyr Seward, master of King Arthur's horses, or be served in a restaurant by George? The concept was surreal, particularly since he realised that most of these people had no idea they'd been reincarnated. If he hadn't met Merlin, he doubted he would have either.

 

But, like Merlin, he too understood there was a purpose for his rebirth. He too was aware of the prophecy and that knowledge was sobering, if not frightening.

 

“Annie, you do know these allegations are false?” he asked, walking into the room towards his desk.

 

“What do you think? I've known you since you were a boy. I've watched you grow into a quick-witted and resourceful young man who wants only the best for the firm,” Annie replied with a faint smile hovering round her mouth, though her eyes remained grave. “However, the press has frequently cast you in the role of the pleasure seeking rich boy and, frankly, they're going to have a field day reporting these indiscretions, whether there's any truth in them or not. The markets tend to get very jumpy at the first whiff of scandal.”

 

“Camelot's share price has dropped?”

 

“It has, especially since it seems to be the general consensus that we've overstretched our budgets.”

 

“But we haven't.” Arthur slid into the chair behind his desk, watching Annie closely. “Have we? I know we have to recoup the initial capital for our green energy projects, but that's a whole lot less than drilling offshore in the North Sea and the Atlantic. Surely the fracking plants should be breaking even and pretty soon will turn a profit? If I've done my homework correctly, that is.”

 

“There's nothing wrong with your homework. But someone wants everyone to think there is.” Annie sat on the edge of one of the leather easy chairs, her hands nervously pleating the edge of her skirt. “I'm sorry, Arthur, but in this climate where the price of fuel is low and Camelot's share price is on the slide, some of our investors might think it's time to get out of the business. If too many do that, we could be ripe for a takeover.”

 

Clasping his hands in front of him to keep them still, Arthur stared at the photograph of his parents. “And it doesn't help that Dad is ill. The board and the shareholders trust him... they don't have the same confidence in me, which is why I can't become CEO.” There was a second or two while Arthur remained still, hardly breathing, before he stood and stated clearly. “Annie, I want you to assume the CEO's position instead. You've been with the company for years and you've steered Camelot's finances through every crisis. The board have faith in you and, until I can clear my name, I can't take over from Dad.”

 

Annie's brow creased in distress. “But it's what your father would want for you.”

 

“Yes, maybe in the future when he retired... but you know he'd advise against promoting me at this moment. With my reputation being questioned, I could only bring Camelot down,” he said, crossing to sit opposite the woman he respected and liked as a friend. “Will you do this for me, for Dad and for Camelot?”

 

Again there was a silence as Annie thought, then sighing in resignation, she answered, “I wish I could say you're wrong - - Camelot is your legacy - - but if you want me to hold the fort, I will. What will you do now?”

 

“Find out who's orchestrating this attack on Camelot and me... and try to stop them.”

 

“Good luck with that.” Ms Carr rose and straightened her shoulders. “I think I can steady the nerves of the board members and I can assure them and the stock holders that our finances are sound. I'll keep you informed of the state of play and if you need help, you've only to ask.”

 

“Thank you, Annie.” Arthur leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. “I promise to let you know how things are going on my end. At least, we've stopped the water turbulence on the slate islands and the Bearsden Plant is still in operation. It might take a while for people to realise the two weren't related, but it's one problem solved.”

 

Picking up her briefcase and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she gave Arthur a motherly hug. “I won't ask how you did that, but good work. Your father would be proud of you... as am I.”

 

And with tears sparkling in her eyes, she left quickly, leaving a lonely, beset young man in a headquarters where she had just usurped his throne.

 

 

*****

 

A noise in the outer office disturbed Arthur from his admin work, causing his head to tilt as he sat back in his chair and laid his hands on the edge of his desk. All afternoon, he'd been contemplating how corporal strategy wasn't much different from his battlefield planning in far off Camelot. Only the topography and the weapons had changed and, hopefully, in this war no one would end up dead.

 

The noise came again and he rose quietly and moved towards the door. It was way past six o'clock; Gwen was in Scotland and Merlin in Paris, so unless one of his immediate staff were working late, his offices should be empty. He opened his door a little, enough to slide through, in case of intruders, but the young man at his desk looked up and halted with the burger midway to his mouth.

 

“Arthur! I thought you'd be at the hospital,” Matthew said. “How's your father?”

 

Arthur's eyebrows rose in consideration. “His doctor tells me he's off the critical list, but it was still pretty shocking to see him looking so frail and they can't say, at the moment, how much of a recovery he'll make. I guess we just have to be patient.”

 

“If you'd like to go back to visit him, I'll be working late for a bit...”

 

“Thanks, Matthew, but I've a few battles to fight here first.” Arthur walked over and propped himself on the edge of Gwen's desk. “And that brings me to your search. Have you found anything on Eloise Blessed yet?”

 

“I found a few of her hideaways... and, believe me, I do mean hideouts. She's a very private person. It wasn't easy to discover where she lived, apart from the fact that she hires a permanent suite in the Paris Hyatt. She seems to keep a few of those in different hotels around the world, but I did manage to find that she has a house near Wells in Somerset, plus a villa in Lagrasse in Languedoc. However, she doesn't seem to be staying in any of her usual haunts presently. In fact, Eloise seemed to vanish pretty much the same time as your sister.”

 

“Which might mean that they're together. Though I very much doubt that Anna is choosing to stay away.” Arthur walked across to Matthew's desk and leaning over pinched one of his french fries. He hadn't eaten for some time.

 

“I could order out for you,” Matthew suggested helpfully.

 

“Sounds like a plan, but I'm not your king now, so I can manage that myself.” But he stole another chip for good measure, before returning to the subject of Eloise. “You're quite sure she's not at any of her houses? I doubt she'd be able to hold Anna a prisoner in a hotel.”

 

“I agree about the hotels and I can't say for certain, but I'm pretty sure both her residences are empty, apart from her housekeepers.”

 

“Nevertheless, pass the information on to Merlin. He and a reporter friend of Anna have gone to Paris to try to track down Morgause... or I should say Eloise.”

 

“Actually, Arthur, that brings me to another point. So far, I've only been looking for Morgause as a nick on the internet, but perhaps I should put in a search for Morgause's whereabouts. She could be using both names.”

 

“True. But wouldn't we need a surname? I'll grant Morgause is an unusual name but there's bound to be more than we'd expect.”

 

After chewing and swallowing another bite of the burger, Matthew squinted at his boss and asked, “Didn't she have a second name in Albion's days?”

 

“Not that I ever knew... though that's not to say one didn't exist. Gorlois brought up Morgana and for a long time she believed he was her father.” Again Arthur returned to Gwen's desk but this time he made himself more comfortable in her chair. “Morgana always spoke of Morgause as her sister... so if they weren't related through Gorlois, it had to be on her mother's side. Gorlois was married to Elaine of Garlot but I never knew her. She died when Morgana and I were young children.” Arthur stopped, thinking for a moment. “Then again, perhaps Morgause and Morgana were never blood sisters... just members of the sisterhood of high priestesses.” Suddenly, Arthur jumped up from his chair and headed towards his own office. “Sorry I can't be of more help. Perhaps the best thing to do is check the Arthurian legends and see if any of the names fit. Now, I have to check in with Gwen and Drew. Let me know how you get on.”

 

“Right. I'll do that... oh, and Arthur, congratulations on your promotion. I know it isn't how you'd want it, but I believe you'll make a great CEO.”

 

Arthur turned in the doorway, his fair skin paling and his eyes shadowed to the colour of the sky at twilight. “You're wrong, Matthew. I'm not Camelot Industries' new CEO. Annie Carr is. Which is just as well. With all these accusations being levelled against me, I would have been known as the Chief Executive Officer who brought the business my great-grandfather founded to its knees.”

 

*****

 

Freya was waiting when Gwen's plane arrived in Glasgow, the two women greeting each other with the warmth normally created by a period of long friendship. Though Gwen and Freya had met only recently and had never known each other in their past lives, they had quickly slid into the ease and understanding of shared, though bizarre, experiences.

 

By the time Gwen landed, she had already contacted Leonard Cameron by phone and had been pleasantly surprised when the Dumbarton Planning Officer had agreed to meet with her. Now the two women wasted little time in driving to the meeting place, a pub in Bearsden called The Crown, which was near the shale gas plant at the centre of the controversy.

 

They arrived with some minutes to spare, so found a quiet corner inside with a clear line of sight to the entrance, ordered themselves a pot of tea and waited.

 

“Do you believe this man we're about to meet is dishonest?” Freya asked the obvious question. “I'm assuming that no one gives any credence to the accusation that Arthur is guilty of bribery and corruption?”

 

The look Gwen turned on her new friend beside her was incredulous and disapproving. “Freya, you don't know Arthur, or you wouldn't ask such a thing. Camelot Industries is his life and his love... apart from his family.”

 

“And you,” Freya added, smiling apologetically. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult Arthur, but I wanted to make sure of the ground before we start questioning this man.”

 

“You've probably read too many celebrity magazines about Arthur the playboy,” Gwen replied reasonably. “Some of the stories are actually true, though many are exaggerated. In truth, Arthur is hard-working and honest. He'd never risk his family's name by employing bribery.”

 

“He really is like King Arthur then.” Freya laughed, the sound soft as breeze rippling across a lake. “Merlin has told me the same.”

 

Gwen joined her laughter. “I'm not sure Arthur would agree with you. In fact, he's quite happy not to be a royal this time around, but he does feel the same sort of responsibility toward his family, the firm and the people who work with him. He'd never do anything which would put those he cares for in peril.” Gwen stretched out and poured tea into their cups. “On another subject, I'd just like to tell you that I'm very happy you and Merlin are together... as is Arthur. He's our dearest friend and to know he's been living alone all these years is daunting.”

 

Though the lounge bar was fairly empty, Gwen refrained from mentioning the amount of years Merlin had lived. Wayne might be a partisan journalist, but he was probably their only friend, and if he was interested in investigating Arthur Penderel's seeming fall from grace then there were probably others snooping about and the last thing either of these women wanted was to draw the media's attention down on Rhys Wilson.

 

Moving closer to Gwen on the padded bench seat, Freya lowered her voice. “I was happy to be able to watch him through his life, yet it was a double-edged sword and there were many times my heart ached for him. Being here with him now is a wish I never dared contemplate. I can't express how much this second chance means to me.”

 

“We've all been granted another chance of happiness and we mustn't waste it,” Gwen said, just as quietly, as she placed her hand on Freya's. “We must cherish our present lives and face whatever is to come together... for we can't all have been brought back for nothing. I know Arthur feels touched by destiny. This time, I refuse to let him place his life in danger alone. I intend to be with him every step of the way.”

 

“I couldn't agree with you more.” Freya squeezed Gwen's fingers. “We've more knowledge in this life... and the strength of our friendship. Also, we have Merlin to guide us.” Tears trembled on the tips of her soot-black lashes as she thought of Merlin's hard won wisdom. “But I don't think it would hurt our cause to ask the Fates to show us kindness.”

 

Freya's words ghosted through Gwen Armour's mind. Only a short time ago, she would have listened with scepticism to anyone who spoke with such conviction about the supernatural, yet she couldn't ignore the fact that she was reborn; that Arthur, her beloved husband, had been returned to her and she'd renewed her acquaintance with her dearest friend, who happened to be over fifteen hundred years old. The bizarre had become the reality and, whether it was credible or not, magic, both good and bad, had returned to the world of men.

 

If there was any doubt in her mind, it disappeared with the tall gentleman now sauntering into the pub and looking around him. Without thinking, Gwen had lifted her hand and waved him over before she suddenly faltered. What explanation could she give for recognising him at once... unless he too recalled he'd once been called Sir Leon.

 

The auburn hair still curled, though tight about his head and he was clean shaven, but as his eyes swept in the women's direction, Gwen noted his gaze was still direct and kind. He slowly walked with an easy gait to their table.

 

“Ms Armour?” he asked and at the sound of his voice she was transported back to Camelot's citadel, but she had a job to do.

 

“Yes. My friend is Freya Campbell. Won't you sit down?” Gwen gestured to the other side of the booth. There was a moment or two when she was afraid he would refuse, but he made up his mind and took the proffered place. Gwen continued with all the confidence she'd acquired as Queen Guinevere, though, in truth, she was praying this man was an innocent dupe. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. There are a few questions we'd like to ask you which might seem intrusive, but I feel you've been asking these questions of yourself. Between us, we might throw some light on the subject.”

 

Leonard cleared his throat to reply. Clearly he had doubts, but he wasn't willing to admit them to two strangers, however attractive these ladies were. It was a well known fact that Arthur Penderel was a popular man amongst women, but he'd been surprised when he'd been approached by the man's PA and not himself. Somehow, he'd believed Penderel was the type to fight his own battles. “Very well, I'll listen to what you have to say but I can't promise to answer your questions. Offering bribes to council officials is a crime and, though I've been late in reporting him, I'm not about to absolve Penderel of his offences.”

 

“No, of course not,” Gwen agreed readily. “We understand you're an honest man who wants to do what's right... but have you never wondered why it took you so long to come forward with your accusations? The planning application was made and passed over a year ago.”

 

Mr Cameron flushed and his gaze dropped guiltily to the floor. “I know I ought to have done...”

 

“And why recommend a dubious application?” Freya asked, deciding a pincer attack might be needed. “If you're as honest as you say?”

 

“I never took the money!” Leonard denied, his back straightening as his eyes passed from one interrogator to the other.

 

“We believe you, Mr Cameron.” Gwen yielded a little of her outrage. “But my friend still has a point. Why recommend Camelot Industries' planning application be granted if it was, as you state, illegal?”

 

“But it wasn't. There was nothing wrong with the application... only the bribe that accompanied it.”

 

“It makes you wonder why Mr Penderel, who, I have to tell you, is very astute when it comes to such matters, would ruin his chances by doing something so obviously unwarranted. Unless he was made to believe that his application might not be passed?”

 

“I didn't approach him, if that's what you're implying,” Leonard stated, though he appeared flustered.

 

“We're not implying anything,” Freya admitted soothingly, nudging Gwen's foot beneath the table. They wouldn't get anywhere if they antagonised this man. “You're saying that Mr Penderel contacted you... and you arranged to meet?

 

“I doubt he would come to your office and openly offer you such an inducement,” Gwen said, quickly following Freya's line of questioning. “And I'm fairly certain he wouldn't do so over the phone when a telephone call can be monitored. He's just not that stupid.”

 

There was another pause before Mr Cameron nodded, and said barely audibly, “Yes.”

 

“Where?” Gwen's voice sounded sharp and staccato as a bullet. “When?” If she could tie Cameron down to a time table, as Arthur's PA she could very likely refute it. She tended to know where he was at any given time.

 

“Here, I suppose.” Leonard shifted uneasily on his seat, looking very like he needed a drink... yet he didn't normally imbibe during the day.

 

“Here? In this bar?” Gwen's enquiries kept coming relentlessly.

 

“Maybe. I can't remember exactly... but it was here in Bearsden.”

 

“But surely you would remember such a notable event?”

 

On the edge of the worn velvet seat, Mr Cameron squirmed.

 

“Would you like something to drink?” Freya interrupted not unkindly, amazed at her gentle friend's lioness-like defence of the man she loved. “You look a bit flustered.”

 

An embarrassed grin transformed Mr Cameron's face. “I'd like a brandy... but I don't want you to get the impression I'm in the habit of drinking while I'm at work... or driving. I'll stick with coffee.”

 

Freya rose, sending Gwen a silent but impassioned plea to go easier on the man she was now starting to feel very sorry for. He was clearly out of his depth... and if he had been, as they suspected, induced by magic to blacken Arthur's name, he was as much a victim as Arthur.

 

Left alone, Gwen leaned closer. “Leon... may I call you Leonard?” she asked, quickly covering her mistake, her tone reverting to its usual softness. “You really don't remember much about where and when my boss offered you a bribe and that's probably because it never happened.”

 

“Are you accusing me of perjury?” There was no malice or strength left in Mr Cameron.

 

Shaking her head, Gwen at last gave a small smile. “No. I believe you believe it happened and that's why you made the accusation. But I do think you know you acted out of character by waiting so long to go to the authorities... and that you can't clearly remember what exactly happened and where it took place.”

 

“How would you know that?” Leonard's question followed fast and a flare of something close to hope reflected in his eyes.

 

“Because I know Arthur... Also, I recognise you're a man who is torn by guilt that he could have connived at covering up a crime.” Gwen waited as Freya placed the coffee cup in front of Leonard and sat beside her once more, before explaining calmly but with conviction. “There is no need for you to worry because there was no crime, at least, not yours. Leonard, though you might find it incredulous, you've been tricked by mind control... and the person who you did meet and who was responsible is someone quite other.”

 

“That's the craziest thing I've heard!” Leonard protested, almost spilling his drink as he pushed up from the table. “You're both mad and I don't have to sit here and listen to such impossible stories.”

 

“Please, Mr Cameron, before you go would you please take a look at this photograph and tell us if you know this man?” Gwen asked, a faint note of supplication in her voice.

 

Freya had suggested that Gwen should search for a picture of Mark Cornwallis, the boss of Camelot's up-and-coming rival, and bring it with her. Thankful for her friend's foresight, now Gwen slipped it from her briefcase and pushed it across the table surface towards Leonard, who paused in his action of standing.

 

“I do,” he said in a hoarse whisper, sinking back to his seat. He stared at the photograph, one of the very few which Gwen had managed to find... a picture of a man in a tailored tuxedo taken at the latest Mansion House dinner. “I met him recently...”

 

“Here in Bearsden?” This time Gwen's probing was less harsh.

 

“Yes. He told me...” Leonard shook his head. “He told me...” He looked up at the women, his glance haunted, but no longer hostile. He shook his head from side to side slowly. “I can't remember what he told me.”

 

“Leonard, we know this is difficult for you because you don't understand what's happening, but we do. Would you please come with us to meet someone who can help you remember?” Freya asked, her husky voice non-threatening. “We mean you no harm.”

 

Once again, Leonard looked from one female to the other. He couldn't deny they were right in their conjecture that he'd been very troubled by the fact that he'd stayed quiet for so long after Penderel had tried to bribe him. He was an honest man, proud of his reputation, who under normal circumstances would have reported such an offence at once. If this Ms Armour and Ms Campbell could shed some light on his rather dubious actions, he'd be grateful... but could he trust them? The two women were returning his stare, one with an almost queenly command and the other with encouraging candour and yet, strangely, he had faith in them. With little thought for the consequences, he spoke up.

 

“Very well. You've pretty much hit the nail on the head about my misgivings. I can't explain my behaviour, so I'll go with you. However, I'll inform both my colleagues at work and my family where I'm going and who with. So where are we headed... and I'd advise you not to do anything outrageous.”

 

Finally, the dark-skinned woman smiled genuinely, a smile which glowed from within and brightened her eyes. “I can promise you we might do the unexpected, but you won't be harmed, Leonard. Make your phone calls and meet us outside in the car park.” She returned the photo to her case and headed for the exit, but within a couple of strides, she turned. “Oh, and we're going to Easedale.”

 

*****

 

Arthur stared at the figures before him, the columns seeming to blur into wavy lines which blew in an imaginary breeze. He'd been working on this for hours, had gone over every financial report and statement, every forecast and audit for the past few years and he couldn't find any fault in Camelot's finances. Whoever was putting about the rumours that the firm was heading for a financial crisis was wrong, though that didn't surprise him. What was shocking was the fact that these rumours were being believed.

 

There was a peremptory knock on his door before Matthew bounded into the room, grinning triumphantly.

 

“Sir!” But before he could continue, he noticed the papers strewn about Arthur's wide desk and the pallor which blanched his boss's face. “I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were so busy. I can come back,” he offered, though he couldn't hide his disappointment.

 

“No. No! Come in. To tell the truth, I could use the distraction.” Arthur rolled his head a couple of times to ease the tension which had been building in the muscles of his neck and shoulders. “I take it from that look on your face that you might have good news... and I could certainly do with some of that.”

 

“It's not exactly news, but I've found Morgause. Well, I believe I've found where she might be hiding. She's still in Paris.”

 

“Matthew, you're a genius!” Arthur straightened up and suddenly looked quite animated.

 

“Actually, it was your suggestion about checking the Arthurian legends which led me to discover where she might be. She owns a house on the Ile St Louis in the Rue des Deux Ponts, only under the name of Morgause Le Faye, which is a name straight from the story books. It's an old house which appears to have belonged to the family for a few hundred years...”

 

“Probably to Morgause herself. We know that some people with magic have been reincarnated a number of times. Having a house to hide away in each time seems fairly practical.” Arthur's stomach rumbled, reminding him that he still hadn't eaten. “Text that address to Rhys and get him to check it out. Hopefully, he and Wayne will find Anna there... but warn them to be careful. Merlin might have magic, but Morgause does too and it seems she's still seeking revenge against Camelot... though I have no idea why. It's not like my father and I have been going around killing sorcerers this time. I wonder if she'd consider a truce?” he asked, his brow creasing in contemplation, yet there was no reason to dwell on an unknown future. First they had to find Anna.

 

Arthur gave himself a mental shake and glanced at his watch, realising he'd been studying figures for hours. He eased himself from behind the desk, his body feeling as stiff as an old man's. He stretched his back, flexing the muscles in his arms. Under normal circumstances he'd visit the gym every other day, but his life hadn't exactly been normal of late. He'd hardly had time to use his own exercise equipment at home. All this chasing after sorcerers was playing havoc with his physique. It wasn't that Arthur was overly conceited, but he did like to keep his body healthy and in trim. Mind you, as his mind drifted to Gwen he was willing to admit that the weird events of the last few weeks did have an upside. Smiling at that thought, he picked up his jacket from a chair where he'd thrown it and walked backwards to the door.

 

“I promised my mother I'd visit the hospital and I still have to grab some food. Tell Rhys I'll call him later tonight and wish him luck with his search,” Arthur instructed Matthew. “Oh, and if they do find Anna, ask him to let me know immediately.”

 

With those last words, he disappeared through the door but he returned, momentarily. “And good work, Matthew. I'm glad to have you with us.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and for the very encouraging comments. It may seem a bit vain, but it's really great to hear people are loving my story. It gives me the inspiration to keep going. Thanks again!


	24. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is success for both sets of investigators in this chapter, but their discoveries only lead to more worry and unanswered questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting almost on time this week. It's been an eventful week and not just in my personal life. I hope you all enjoy the next part of the story. I'd also like to thank those of you who've left kudos and comments. You inspire me.

Chapter Twenty-four

 

Found

 

 

Freya parked the 4X4 outside the Veterinary Practice and switched off the engine. The drive up to Seil had been a fairly quiet one with Leonard Cameron sitting in the back and keeping his thoughts to himself. Gwen and Freya, aware that they were not alone, had indulged in a sporadic and fairly innocuous chat about their respective jobs and families.

 

As they got out of the car, Leonard spoke up at last. “Easdale? That's the place where the Bearsden plant was supposedly causing problems with the flooded slate quarries”

 

“Not any longer,” Freya stated, locking up the Land Rover. “The waters are calm now.”

 

“And the turbulence never did have anything to do with the fracking,” Gwen added, her voice and features showing a determination to fight for those she loved. “But let us show you, if you don't believe us.”

 

“I didn't say I thought it had anything to do with the shale gas,” the man said reasonably, standing tall just as Leon had done centuries before. “Before I recommended the go-ahead for the plant I checked every possible outcome. I was never a believer in the more unreasonable claims, particularly relating to activity from a volcano which has been extinct for millions of years.”

 

“I'm glad you see that,” Gwen said, following Freya as she made her way to the ferry, but dropping back to walk side-by-side with Leonard. “Someone else caused the waters to boil and tried to blame Camelot Industries, but we've managed to get rid of the real cause.” She paused for a few seconds, wondering if she were about to do the right thing by opening up, but then Sir Leon had been an honourable man and Wayne had mentioned he'd thought Mr Cameron was a straight-up guy. They had to take a chance now and then; she only hoped Arthur would approve. “Unfortunately, we don't know for sure who's behind these attacks on Camelot Industries or Arthur, but we're hoping that you might be able to help us.”

 

Leonard looked sceptical, yet he couldn't deny he had doubted his own actions, so he answered with some eagerness. “I'm not sure how, but I'm open to suggestions. As long as you're not about to bribe me too.”

 

“Arthur didn't bribe you in the first place,” Gwen reiterated, her brown eyes flashing, her chin lifting stubbornly. “Someone made you think that and we're pretty certain it's the same person who's trying to bring Camelot down. If you agree, we've a friend who might prompt you to remember who encha...” She stopped quickly. It was far too soon to mention magic to Leonard. “Who mesmerised you.”

 

“You're suggesting I was hypnotised?” Leonard said, somewhat incredulously. “I find that very hard to believe.”

 

“Yet hypnotism works, Mr Cameron.”

 

“Sure. On TV, if you want to make some poor sod think he's a chicken laying an egg.”

 

Gwen frowned disapprovingly. “It hasn't been used in that way for many years... and even some of the medical profession recognise it as legitimate. Whether you believe or not, mind control is possible.”

 

A dubious grunt came from Mr Cameron. “You've been reading too many spy books, or watching too many movies...”

 

“No!” Gwen stopped in front of Leonard, her hand hovering over his arm. “Please. I don't ask you to believe me, but can you keep an open mind? I'm sure there's a small part of you who accepts that something is wrong here... or you wouldn't have agreed to come so far.”

 

There was a long pause, while Gwen resisted the temptation to squirm. Then, Leonard tilted his curly head and said, “I can do that.”

 

Some way ahead of them, Freya turned to shout. “Gwen! Mr Cameron, the ferry is coming to the jetty. If we hurry, we can catch it.”

 

Immediately, Gwen gave up her quest to sway Leonard, taking to her heels to follow her friend. She could hear the tall man loping easily behind her. They all arrived at the pier as the small boat was disembarking its passengers, chatting happily, all seemingly thrilled with their trip to Easdale and happy to be on their way to another adventure.

 

A couple of locals and a few more tourists were waiting to load, but there would still be room for Freya and company. They boarded the boat with its powerful outboard engine and took the few remaining seats, which curtailed Gwen and Leonard's conversation. Neither, however, were upset and, apart from the ferrymen wishing the locals good-day, silence reigned as the trio set out for their destination.

 

 

*****

 

 

Rhys drummed his fingers on the table as he sat alone on the patio of the Café Victoria close to the Hotel Daniel. He and Wayne had gone directly to both Anna's and Eloise's hotels, which were their last known whereabouts, but had found no trace of either woman. Now, completely oblivious to the warm sunshine, he searched the faces of the many Parisians and visitors as they moved past him, some with an obvious purpose and others sauntering along, absorbing the atmosphere of one of Europe's oldest and most romantic cities.

 

Perhaps, he expected to spot Anna in the crowd -- from her photographs he knew she was sufficiently like Morgana for him to recognise -- but that was a forlorn hope. Instead, he

was increasingly impatient and anxious while he tried to guess who was Wayne's contact in Paris.

 

Merlin couldn't put his finger on a particular reason why he was feeling that time was of the essence. He only knew that some catastrophe was imminent, but whether that was in Cardiff or in Scotland, he had no idea. Yet he was aware it was crucial that they find Anna and return to the UK as soon as possible.

 

Over a thousand years ago, he'd abandoned Arthur at Camlann to visit the Crystal Cave to recover his magical abilities. While his journey had been imperative, Merlin couldn't deny that it was during his absence that Arthur had met his destiny, had been mortally struck down by Mordred. He'd returned too late to defend his king and, though he'd tried mightily to save Arthur, his efforts had been in vain. In the present day, he'd vowed to protect Arthur from his enemies come what may... and sitting in a café in Paris was not a good use of his time.

 

Wayne threaded his way through the tables towards Rhys. “Sorry. Call of nature,” he explained, sitting across from -- what he thought -- was the younger man. “Why are you looking so worried, Rhys? I know we didn't find Anna or Eloise at either of their hotels, but we never expected to. Believe me, if they're somewhere in Paris, Armand will know.”

 

“This Armand is a policeman?”

 

“Sort of,” Wayne's mischievous smile beamed. “Actually, he's a police informant... and mine. He keeps his ears and eyes open. It's a lucrative business.”

 

“But can you trust him?” Rhys threw another question at Wayne.

 

“I'm just paying him for information. I'm not looking for a lifelong commitment,” Wayne said, his eyes narrowing perplexedly. “Looking for one girl in a city the size of Paris is like searching for a needle in a haystack... and I assumed we're in a hurry. Armand hasn't let me down yet.”

 

However, when Armand turned up, it seemed as if there was a first time for everything. The older man, looking more like a middle-aged, overworked librarian than a snitch, was unable to give them any helpful information. Eloise Blessed was known to him, yet he seemed surprised that anyone would link her to a kidnapping. She had no criminal record and she was rich enough to rule out a ransom demand. According to Armand, it was more likely the two women had gone off somewhere private to indulge in an affair of the heart. While he realised that snippet of information might be newsworthy to Wayne, it hardly merited a full scale investigation by the reporter and his restless friend. This was the twenty-first century, after all, and same-sex relationships didn't even raise an eyebrow.

 

“What now?” Rhys asked after Armand left, unable to hide his disappointment. “Have you anymore suggestions?”

 

“Give me a minute, will ya?” Even Wayne's happy-go-lucky attitude seemed to have deserted him for the moment. “And what about you, Rhys? I don't see you coming up with any new ideas.”

 

For a few seconds, the growing alliance between the modern equivalent of Merlin and Gwaine appeared to be in danger of disintegrating. Rhys gave an apologetic smile and just as quickly, Wayne cut in.

 

“I'm sorry. That's unfair of me. I don't suppose a geologist knows too much about investigating.”

 

“Oh, I don't know.” Rhys's smile widened and the skin at the corners of his eyes creased in laughter lines. “You'd be amazed how much research my job entails. Different subject, of course, but the process might be similar. If one door closes, we look for another set of markers.”

 

“OK, mate. So what's our next step?” Wayne put his hand up to call a waiter and ordered two coffees. “We know Eloise isn't at any of her work places, or her usual haunts in the city, but she could own a place no one knows about... maybe under a different name. Celebrities often do that to throw off the paparazzi.”

 

“Another name?” Rhys pondered softly. _“Morgause?”_ But even knowing that one, solitary name would hardly help them trace her. They needed more to go on.

 

As if on cue, Rhys's smart phone began to buzz and, seeing the caller was Mordred, he swallowed his foreboding and accepted the call. “Hi, Matthew. What can I do for you?”

 

“Actually, Rhys, it's what I can do for you.” Matthew's boyish voice sounded a smidgeon self-satisfied yet openly friendly. “And it was really Arthur who gave me the idea...”

 

“What idea?”

 

“To search for homes owned by anyone with a name from Arthurian legend.”

 

“Morgause?” Merlin's question was a mere whisper.

 

“How did you guess, Rhys? Though I shouldn't be surprised. You were always more than any of us ever guessed... though I think Arthur knew in the end...” Matthew's words died abruptly. “Oh, God, Merlin. His end. At my hand. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself.”

 

Aware he had an attentive audience, Merlin moved away to speak quietly to the erstwhile Druid. “Matthew! I'm not sure I can totally forgive you either... but, if it helps ease your conscience, we have to put it behind us. You've a chance to make up for the great wrong you did. Save Arthur and his family this time and you'll have gone a long way to wiping the slate clean.” And, since Wayne was still staring at him quizzically, he mouthed an apology and returned to his seat, reverting to his normal tone.“Now do you have information for us?”

 

“Yes! I searched for Morgan Le Faye first and got nowhere, but when I changed the first name to Morgause I came up trumps! Morgause Le Faye has a home in Paris on Ile St Louis and it's been in the family for a few hundred years. In fact, Arthur and I are guessing she might have lived there during a number of reincarnations. I'm texting you the address now.”

 

“Good! Wayne and I'll check it out immediately and let you know what happens. Is Arthur there?”

 

Merlin was feeling somewhat peeved that Arthur hadn't been the one to call; nor could he repress the feeling of dread which churned in his stomach. Even if they did find Anna, how would she react to seeing Merlin's face again. Would it activate memories of her past life? And what had Morgause done to her over these last few days?

 

“I'm afraid not, Rhys. Arthur's visiting his father, but he wants you to call him immediately you've checked out the house on the Ile St Louis.”

 

“Is there any change with his dad?” Merlin asked, doubting there would be any fresh news since he'd left Arthur this morning.

 

“Not really. As far as I can make out, Mr Penderel is conscious but still very frail. I don't think he's managing to speak yet either, but Arthur will probably have more info when you talk to him tonight. I'll let you get on with your search. Good luck, and if you need any help just contact me.”

 

“Thanks, Matthew. I've got your text,” Merlin said after checking his phone. “And thanks for the luck. No doubt we'll need it. See you!”

 

The connection was cut and Rhys looked over at Wayne, who sat... hovering. “OK. Where are we off to now?” the journalist asked, his crooked smile showing.

 

“Do you know the Ile St Louis?” Rhys downed his coffee in one before standing up. “We have a lead.”

 

Wayne's lips pursed into a soundless whistle as Rhys showed him the whole text. “Wow, that's one of the oldest parts of Paris... and the most expensive, but then we're talking about Eloise Blessed. She's not exactly broke.”

 

“Actually, the house we're heading to is owned by someone called Morgause Le Faye... but they're probably one and the same person.”

 

“Rhys, my friend, what are you not telling me?” Wayne stared up at Rhys, defiantly. “Ever since I met you and Arthur in that hospital, I've had the impression I'm only seeing the tip of the iceberg. If you want my help, I think I deserve to know it all.”

 

Frozen in place for a few seconds, Merlin considered his options. He trusted Wayne, but reporters were a cynical breed by trade and just how much could he reveal which his new friend would actually believe? Besides, would Arthur approve of his bearing his soul to Wayne McGuire? The younger Penderel had the notion that their reborn sisters and brothers should be allowed to regain awareness in their own time... and Merlin could understand that wish. However, this was an emergency... and he didn't have to put all their cards on the table.

 

“Right. But time is short.” Merlin gestured for Wayne to follow him out of the café. “Why don't I tell you what you want to know on the way to this island?”

 

 

*****

 

 

The trio made their way across the turfed square towards Fiona's cottage on Easdale, Freya leading the way. The tiny island was quieter than Leonard had imagined. This was the height of summer and the weather had been kind. Somehow, he'd expected the island to be packed with tourists, all eager to witness the turbulent waters.

 

Gwen noticed him looking around and guessed his thoughts. “Now the lochs are smooth a lot of the sightseers seem to have lost interest. I'm sure some of the locals are a bit disappointed we've got rid of the main attraction, though most are just happy to have the island back to themselves.”

 

“How did you manage to do that?” Leonard asked, glancing sideways at the attractive woman by his side.

 

Gwen shrugged, unsure how much they could divulge to Leonard without him assuming they were mad. “Why don't we get to that explanation after we've sorted out your memory.”

 

Clearly, Leonard wasn't totally happy with that suggestion, but he decided to leave it for now. “You do understand I'm not convinced there's anything wrong with my memory?”

 

“I do.” Gwen gave a tiny smile of understanding. “But you're still here, so why don't you wait till you've met Fiona...”

 

“Fiona? That's the woman we're going to meet?”

 

“Yes. Fiona MacDougall. She's a homoeopathic healer.” They had reached the garden gate and Gwen stopped and put her hand on Leonard's arm. “I only ask that you give her a chance. Please, Leon...”

 

A sudden blush coloured Gwen's honey coloured skin. She pulled her hand away as if she had been burned and Leonard had to admit that he'd felt something too. A warm tingle permeated his arm where she'd touched him and now he felt bereft. As if he had glimpsed, briefly, a benevolent world through an open door which had just as quickly slammed in his face, leaving him shaken.

 

At the head of the path, Freya turned. “Are you coming?” Her question was shrill and, as the duo passed her to walk into the house, the look she gave Gwen was troubled.

 

Unfortunately, for Leonard's peace of mind, the house and garden were empty. Fiona MacDougall was not at home. He wandered around the kitchen-cum-living room, looked out the window to the back garden where Fiona's herbs and plants were in the full bloom of summer, before swivelling to face both females. “Looks like your friend isn't here, so perhaps I'll go back to the mainland and make an appointment to come another time,” he said, rather belligerently.

 

“Please don't. Wait for a little while,” Freya countered reasonably. “I'm sure my aunt hasn't gone far. The boatman would have told me if she'd left the island.” Although this was true, it wasn't necessarily correct, as she could have gone with Lance to one of the other small islands by the boat they'd chartered. Both Lance and Fiona had intended to continue working while she was away meeting Gwen. “Why don't you take a seat, Mr Cameron, and I'll make us a cup of tea while we wait for her.”

 

“That would be nice,” Gwen quickly agreed, finding a seat at the table. “And has she baked any more of those lovely fruit scones she sent over to us when we were at Avalon?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Leonard sat in one of the easy chairs by the fireplace. It was obvious he wanted to leave but was too polite to insist. Besides there was a tiny part of him that wanted to see this venture through to its conclusion.

 

“Avalon?” he asked, deciding that speaking might make this awkward interlude pass more quickly.

 

“Yes, my aunt's friend is a bit of a geek about the Arthurian legends.” Freya spoke from the kitchen where she was making a pot of tea, setting the table with cups and saucers and finding the scones in a biscuit tin. “She's away from home just now and Gwen and her friends needed somewhere to stay while they researched the problem with the slate quarries.”

 

“The house is called Avalon,” Gwen explained.

 

“Shouldn't it be called Camelot?” Leonard asked tritely.

 

Gwen laughed. “I think we have enough of those, don't you?”

 

“I wouldn't know,” Leonard cut in, trying to appear disinterested, yet failing. “What's with this Arthur Penderel and Camelot Industries? Has he got an Arthurian obsession too?”

 

“Tea is served,” Freya announced. “Come, Mr Cameron. You should try the scones. Gwen's right. They're delicious and the jam is home-made too.”

 

As Leonard sat at the table, Gwen answered his questions. “Actually, Camelot Industries was founded by his great-grandfather nearly a century ago. He didn't choose the name... nor his own given name.”

 

Thankfully, Leonard didn't pursue the matter, which was just as well. She wasn't sure how he would react to learning Arthur's mother's name was Ygraine... and he did seem to know a few details about the legends himself. Was he remembering?

 

 

*****

 

 

Unlike Easdale, Paris was filled to overflowing with tourists, though the small Ile St Louis, it had to be said, seemed slightly less well known to visitors. Rhys and Wayne reached the island in late afternoon and found their way to the address where they hoped to find Anna. The narrow building was old, wedged between taller, more modern and grandiose structures, yet with its ancient roof-tiles and slightly crooked walls, it had a charm of its own.

 

Then why did a shiver run up and down Merlin's spine as he stared at the house? Perhaps it was the climbing wisteria that covered the sand-coloured front, its drooping flowers, the violet colour almost leached from them with age, hanging like ghostly fingers to mask the mullioned windows. Merlin was certain that light wasn't welcomed inside these walls.

 

His companion, though, had no such premonitions and Wayne strode up to the door and rattled the door-knocker loudly. There was no answer. Wayne waited a few minutes before rapping on the door and shouting. “Hello! Is anyone there?”

 

Again he was met by an eerie silence, yet Merlin heard a sound, so faint that he wasn't sure if he'd heard it with his ears or his mind. Taking a step back, he gazed up at the small windows in the upstairs floor, focussing his magic to find any trace of life.

 

“Help! Please help me.” The strained voice came again.

 

“Well, Rhys, what do we do now?” Wayne asked, cutting through the warlock's concentration. “And don't suggest we just turn tail and leave.”

 

Merlin held up his hand. “Wait! Of course not!” Then he glanced back up the street, pleased to see they were alone. He turned his attention back to the top story of the house and called, “Anna, are you there?”

 

A pale face appeared at one of the windows, its owner beginning to bang against the latticed glass. “Can you get me out of here?” the woman demanded.

 

Wayne needed no further motivation and he tried the door, only to find it locked, but he wasn't about to be deterred. Putting his shoulder to the door, he pushed with all his might and when nothing happened, he gave it a couple of solid kicks. The ancient lock held.

 

“Christ! I thought this old thing would buckle at the first shove,” he declared, somewhat disappointed and just a little out of breath. The frustrated reporter tried again, but with no success.

 

Meanwhile, the woman upstairs was growing desperate. “You have to get me out of here. Quickly! Before she comes back.”

 

“Don't worry. We'll soon have you free,” Merlin yelled, then directed his words at Wayne. “Perhaps if we try together?” Wayne gave Rhys's physique the once over, not bothering to hide his doubt. “I'm stronger than I look,” Merlin suggested.

 

Shrugging, Wayne gave in. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to try.”

 

Merlin moved to the door, making sure he stood closest to the doorpost and lock, his back facing Wayne. “OK. We have to do this together. On three. You count us down.”

 

While Wayne counted, Merlin whispered, as his eyes turned gold, “ **Tospringe!** ”

 

Both Rhys and Wayne heaved energetically. Time stood still for a fraction of a second, then the door fell inwards.

 

“Boy! You really are strong,” Wayne said, his glance straying in disbelief from the broken door to the lanky guy by his side.

 

“I think you must have weakened it before,” Merlin admitted, sheepishly. “Come on, Wayne. No time to waste. We have to find Anna.” Ducking his head, he was off at a run up the stairs from where Anna's voice was still calling.

 

Fortunately, the door to Anna's room was held fast by a couple of bolts which Rhys managed to open without the use of magic, though he waited till Wayne was with him before opening the door. In fact, he allowed Wayne to proceed him into the room. Anna would recognise her one time boyfriend. He was keeping his fingers crossed that she wouldn't recognise him... not yet. If she were to discover his true identity, he hoped it would be in private.

 

“Anna!” Wayne declared, his voice betraying his shock. The young woman standing at the end of the bed was pale, her hair tangled, her clothes dishevelled. Her self assurance which he'd always admired seemed sadly missing. He crossed the floor to her side and attempted to take her into his arms, but she drew back. “Anna, what happened? Who did this to you?”

 

“It was that woman... Eloise Blessed!” Anna's hands clenched into fist as she spoke the name. “She brought me here on the pretext of discussing some work I was going to do for her and then locked me in this room... but why she should do that, I have no idea! I mean, she's super rich, for God's sake. Surely she hasn't demanded a ransom from my parents?” Her explanation had tumbled from her lips at double quick-time, but here she stalled.

 

“Perhaps she wasn't looking for money,” Merlin said, sitting on the floor, studying the dark droplets which stained the wooden boards. His mind went back to a time long ago, when he'd hidden beneath Uther Pendragon's bed as Morgana had removed a mandrake root which she'd hidden there. The oily marks were very similar. Had Morgause used the evil plant to try to brainwash Anna? And what was more important... had she succeeded?

 

“Who are you?” Anna demanded, switching her attention to the crouching figure. “And what are you talking about?”

 

Still keeping his face slightly averted, Merlin replied, “Perhaps her motive was revenge.”

 

“Revenge! But why?” Anna took a couple of steps closer to Wayne, the one person she appeared to trust. “Revenge for what? I don't even know who you are.”

 

Once more, Wayne stretched out his hand to touch Anna and, this time, she didn't flinch. “This is Rhys Wilson, and he works for your brother. Actually, he's a close friend of Arthur's. He sent us to find you because he was worried about you.”

 

“Why didn't he come himself?” Anna's green eyes sparkled confrontationally.

 

“Because he's at home with your mother,” Rhys stood to answer, his dark eyes full of sympathy. “Anna, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but your father suffered a massive stroke on Saturday night and he's now in the high dependency unit back in Cardiff.”

 

“Oh, my God! Is he going to be OK?”

 

“He was critically ill for a time, but they've managed to stabilize him,” Rhys said quickly, reassuringly. “Your father's going to be fine... but his recovery might take a long time. Your parents are going to need your support.”

 

“Of course... I'll give it gladly. But why did no one call me?”

 

“They did, Anna.” This time, Wayne answered. “Both Ygraine and Arthur... but you didn't pick up.”

 

“Arthur sent lots of texts. Even before your father collapsed,” Rhys added.

 

“I know that. I didn't answer because I knew he'd chew me out for not coming home... and I didn't want the hassle.” Anna's shoulders shook infinitesimally, while her eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry. So sorry. After she brought me here, Eloise must have taken my phone. I think she drugged me because I woke up in that bed and it was dark. All my things were gone.” She walked to the bed, perched on the edge and stared at the floor. “My poor Mum and Dad. To face that alone. They must think I'm a selfish daughter... and Arthur must be so angry I missed that dinner. None of this would have happened if I'd...” Anna's words faded on a sigh. “That's why he didn't come to fetch me.”

 

“You don't know what would have happened and no one is angry, Anna. In fact, everyone is worried sick.” Wayne followed her, sitting by her side. “The minute I heard you hadn't come back when your dad was ill, even I knew there must be something wrong.”

 

“Arthur wanted to come, but he's shouldering the responsibility of saving the business as well as supporting your mother.” Rhys took a chance and walked into a patch of light from the window. If Anna was to remember him, it was probably better to get it over sooner rather than later and she had a right to know what difficulties her family were facing. “Anna, your kidnapping isn't the only attack on Camelot.”

 

“Then I think we have to get out of here before that woman returns. I have to get home immediately to be with my parents and Arthur. They need me.”

 

Anna rose from the bed in a fluid motion, pulling her shoulders back and her head lifting, the fire of determination glinting in her hazel eyes. She reminded Merlin of the spirited girl from another life time who'd journeyed with him to Ealdor to save his mother and villagers from a gang of lethal brigands, before she'd turned to the darkness. He could only pray that in this age she was sincere.

 

*****

 

Drew and Fiona came tired, but laughing into the house, well-satisfied with the amount of work they'd managed to do that day. Both were surprised when they found Freya, Gwen and a stranger waiting inside. The man was not quite unknown to Drew and he sent an inquiring look at Gwen, who put her fingers to her lips, giving her head a tiny shake.

 

“So this is Leonard Cameron, the planning officer?” he asked, understanding Gwen's gesture.

 

Not forgetting her manners, Gwen stood from her place at the table behind Leonard. “It is. Leonard, I'd like you to meet our friends, Drew Spear and Fiona MacDougall. It's Fiona we brought you to see. She should be able to help you remember what truly happened.”

 

Not to be outdone in politeness, Leonard also stood and offered his hand to the newcomers. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking both their hands, though his tone showed his ambivalence. “I'm told you practise homoeopathy, Ms MacDougall. Don't take this personally, but I'm not sure that works.”

 

“No offence taken, Mr Cameron. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion,” Fiona assured, her voice soft, understanding. Her gaze swept across the table, taking in the empty crockery before turning to Freya and Gwen. “I see you made yourselves at home and have been raiding my larder. Mr Cameron, I do hope you think I'm a good baker, at least.” She finished with a teasing grin.

 

Leonard had the grace to blush. “I do indeed. The scones and jam were delicious. I hope you don't mind that we helped ourselves?”

 

“Oh, Freya knows to treat my home as her own and guests are always welcome.”

 

“How did you get on today?” Gwen asked, slipping back into her seat, her hands clasped on the table, unable to contain her impatience any longer.

 

“Good! Very good,” Drew replied, offering the last empty seat at the table to Fiona. “We've only one of the smaller islands to do before we're finished. In fact, we would've gone straight to Torsay, but a couple of boat loads of students were having a barbecue on the beach, so we thought we might go early tomorrow morning.” He paused for a second, eyeing the crumbs on the plates. “Actually, I'm starving. Are there any of those scones left?”

 

Fiona smiled. “Freya, you'll find another cake tin in the cupboard... and it looks like you'll need more jam and butter. Strawberry, or would you prefer blackcurrant, Drew?”

 

“Oh, I'm spoiled for choice. I've already sampled your strawberry, so I'll try the blackcurrant.” Drew rubbed his hands in anticipation, while Freya set out more supplies.

 

“Mr Cameron.” the older lady turned to her new guest. “Why don't you and I go into my treatment room and talk? I suspect you came here to clear up your suspicions.”

 

For a fleeting moment, Leonard hesitated. Although these strangers seemed friendly enough, he knew they wished to discredit his word. Yet, when his glance settled on Gwen, his jangled nerves stilled. She had shown him kindness, though it was obvious her loyalties lay with Arthur Penderel. He had no idea why, but he felt he could trust her.

 

“I hope you don't mind, Ms MacDougall, but I'd prefer if Gwen came with us. I think it would be better if I had a witness.”

 

“My dear boy, you're not swearing an affidavit or going into the dock.” Another gentle smile creased Fiona's lined face. “But if it makes you feel more comfortable, then by all means... if Gwen agrees, of course.”

 

“Yes, I'd be glad to... and I think we should get started right away,” she said standing, her actions echoing her words. “Because, it occurred to me that we could go to that island later tonight. The weather's fine and the nights are clearest in high summer, so we could finish up and all go back to Cardiff tomorrow.”

 

“I'm not going to Cardiff!” Leonard reminded them. “And I'm not totally happy with spending the night here. I'd like to get back home sometime today.”

 

“Well, we could drop you off in Easdale, if you don't want to see what we're working on,” Drew suggested, around a mouthful of scone. He twisted in his seat to face the other man. “There is a bus service to Oban and you can catch a train from there. Though I think you might find our work interesting and it'd help you understand what we're up against. Wait until you've spoken to Fiona before you make your mind up, and if you're still insisting on going home, then I guess Gwen and I could leave tonight and drive you home on the way to the airport.”

 

“I'm coming with you,” Freya said very fast, before glancing somewhat guiltily at her aunt, but Fiona already knew her niece's plan to join Merlin in Wales.

 

“Then we have a plan.” Fiona opened the door through to another small room. “Come on, Mr Cameron, the sooner we get started the sooner you'll be free of us... if that's what you want.”

 

 

*****

 

Although small, the treatment room was homely and comfortable with chintzy chairs and a cream two-seater sofa. Between them was a pine coffee table where a carafe of water with four crystal glasses sat on a tray. A medicine cabinet was mounted on the wall behind the door, while in the wall opposite a window looked over the front lawn. In the window recess and doorway hung healing amulets of crystals, feathers and herbs.

 

“Please, would you take a seat,” Fiona said, gesturing Leonard towards the sofa. “And perhaps, Gwen, you'd sit here.” Her hand rested on the chair nearest the door and once they were both seated, she retrieved a little vial from the cupboard before taking the remaining chair. As she burrowed into its comfortable cushions, Fiona seemed to weigh Leonard up. “I wonder if you'd agree to take one of my remedies, Mr Cameron. It's nothing harmful, just a very minute dose of Valerian to help you relax.”

 

Leonard sat rigid on the edge of the couch, his fingers clenched on its arm. “I'd rather not. I'm not in the habit of taking drugs.”

 

“And I would never recommend that you did. However, Valerian is a homoeopathic medicine made from a natural plant,” Fiona explained, electing not to mention that this particular batch was enchanted. She hated being dishonest, but their time here was constrained. Besides, the effects would only be temporary and wouldn't hurt Leon. “I can assure you, you won't become addicted. In fact, a lot of people take a few drops in water at nights to wean themselves off prescription sleeping pills. Believe me, no one on this island means you any harm.”

 

“The trouble is, I can't be sure of that!” Leonard sprang up, his lips thinning nervously. “All I did was report an important man of committing a crime and, suddenly, lots of people are questioning my integrity. Haven't you all got your wires crossed?”

 

“It's possible,” Fiona concurred, her manner soothing and Leonard began to think that this woman never lost her cool. “But it appears to me that you have more questions than anyone else. If you'll allow me, I'm certain I can supply some answers... give you some peace of mind. Isn't that why you came here? I can work without you taking any potions, but if you're not prepared to listen, then perhaps you should leave.”

 

“Leonard, please don't.” Gwen joined her own entreaties to Fiona's. She knew how important it was for Arthur, getting Leonard to realise he'd made a mistake, but she genuinely wished the best for the man who'd once been the first knight of Camelot... and her friend. “I know you've no reason to trust us... so trust your own instincts.”

 

The tall gentleman glanced from one woman to the other, before subsiding onto the couch once more. There was really no reason for him to place himself in the hands of these strangers. For all he knew, they could be planning to kidnap him, or something even more extreme. Yet, somewhere deep inside his psyche a memory was struggling to break free.

Since he'd first met Gwen Armour, the impression had been growing within him that, once upon a time, they had been some kind of allies who had stood together in a fight against evil. He still had no idea where or when this had happened. There was no rational explanation. Though it seemed insane, if he wanted to discover the truth, he only knew he had to follow where his heart led. Reluctantly, he offered to accept the medicine. “Oh, well! In for a penny, in for a pound! I'm in your hands.”

 

He watched as Fiona poured a small amount of water into a glass, then added a few droplets of the Valerian, before placing it before him on the table. Without giving it another thought, he downed the drink and lay back. If he'd expected to feel drugged or sleepy, he was completely wrong. Yes, he did feel calmer, but his mind actually felt sharper... more optimistic. Perhaps there was some benefit in this homoeopathic stuff, he thought, as he watched the birds feeding from the bird-table in Fiona's front garden, the butterflies darting lazily in the flowering shrubs. He could see them all in such detail, the sleek feathers and tiny beaks of the birds; the insects' gossamer wings and the fine coloured petals against the fresh green leaves.

 

“Leonard? Are you alright?” Fiona's voice sounded muted and far away. “Leonard?”

 

His eyes returned to the elderly lady, who was leaning toward him. “Yes, I'm fine. This room is strangely pleasant,” he said, sounding vaguely amazed at his verdict.

 

“Good! Now I want you to close your eyes and clear your mind.” At that request, his eyes snapped open wider. “There's nothing to fear. I'm not going to touch you, but I find that closing one's eyes helps to focus the mind and I want you to go back in time to that meeting you had with Arthur... when he tried to bribe you.”

 

It seemed an easy request to accept and Leonard let his heavy eyelids drift shut again.

 

“That's right. Now, I want you to cast your thoughts back. Can you imagine yourself meeting Arthur again for me?” Leonard nodded. “You'll hear me say a few words in a language you don't understand, but don't worry, it's just ancient Gaelic. It's my natural tongue and it helps me to concentrate too.” Leonard smiled his understanding and Fiona continued. **“Ic beodan be asprecan sobsegen!”**

 

She stretched out her hand and her words were almost a whisper as her eyes sparkled with gold. There was a moment of completeness stillness, until she spoke again. “Can you see the scene in your mind's eye?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

“No. There is someone else... another man. He's speaking, asking me to recommend planning permission for Camelot's shale gas rig in Bearsden. He offers me money, a lot of money.”

 

“We believe you, Leonard, but do you know this man? Do you recognise him?”

 

“I've never met him before.” Leonard's statement was firm, sure, but suddenly he frowned, became less certain. “I don't recognise him. I don't understand.”

 

“What don't you understand?” the sorcerer probed gently.

 

Leonard raised his hand to his eyes, rubbing them as if wanting to rid himself of a picture he didn't want to see. “I've seen photographs of Arthur Penderel... and this man isn't him.” His eyes snapped open and he sat up erect. “What have you done to me?” His gaze hard, he directed his accusation at Fiona.

 

“Nothing. I've only helped you to relive the moment of your meeting and see what really happened. If you're honest with yourself, I think you realise I'm worthy of your trust.” She paused, giving Leonard a moment to come to terms with reality. “I know it doesn't feel good to learn that you've been tricked, but there really was nothing you could have done against such an opponent. Now, if you're agreeable, perhaps you'd like us to continue; find out the facts, once and for all?”

 

Despite priding himself on being a very practical person, Leon began to suspect that Fiona was more than a homoeopathic healer. Had he just thought of himself as Leon? No one called him by that name, so why did it sound so familiar? Like slipping into an old and well worn uniform. Settling back into the cushions, feeling numb and exhausted, like he'd just completed a half-marathon, Leonard relented. “Very well. Do you want me to shut my eyes again?”

 

“Only if you feel it helps you to picture the man more clearly.”

 

“I think so. Yes.” He glanced fleetingly at Gwen, who'd remained quiet throughout. She sent him an encouraging smile before he closed his eyes and listened to Fiona's voice.

 

“Settle yourself down and return to the place you were in a few moments ago where you met the imposter who tried to buy your cooperation.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I can post again next weekend. If you've liked what you've read, I'd love to hear from you.


	25. The Wrath of Cornelius Sigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the action in this chapter and the havoc Sigan manages to create for our heroes. After the trip to Torsay things might never be the same...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still managing to post weekly and hope I can continue. Thanks for continuing to read and thanks for the kudos.
> 
> Spells are shown in bold and I'd like to credit the show and a very helpful Merlin site for the incantations. Please enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-five

 

The Wrath of Cornelius Sigan

 

 

In Fiona's spacious kitchen, the five friends sat around the table, having just enjoyed a large pot of her home-made soup and a tasty Scottish dish of stovies. It was plain food, but nourishing and for what they were about to do tonight, it was ideal.

 

The low evening sun slanted through the west-facing window, while dust motes glimmered and danced in the red-gold rays. Leonard sat with his back towards the window, his face in shadow, his auburn hair highlighted by the approaching twilight. He'd spoken very little since his session with Fiona, though he'd eaten well and he'd reviewed his intention of leaving. In fact, he'd shocked himself and the others by agreeing to accompany them to the island. He had no logical reason for changing his mind, he only knew he had to get to the bottom of this mystery in which he'd, inadvertently, become embroiled. Since his announcement, the group had respected his silence, though every now and then each one of them had glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. Finally, he chose to speak up.

 

“So, I really was brainwashed by this Mark Cornwallis?” he asked, directing his question at Gwen.

 

“We think so. You did pick him out from the photos I showed you on the internet,” she pointed out, kindly. “And he does fit the description you gave, a man of average height, slightly built with a narrow face and dark, thinning hair.”

 

“One thing you did admit was that it wasn't Arthur,” Drew added, just a little caustically. He knew exactly where Leonard was coming from. Only a few days ago he'd been in that self-same place, but he understood that the sooner Leon accepted the strange truth, the better it would be for all of them. Besides, if they were to finish cleansing the waters tonight, they didn't have time to babysit an unbeliever.

 

“I suppose. But how could this Cornwallis guy do what he did without me realising?”

 

The women looked at each other, but it was Fiona who answered. “Because he has a great gift which is rare in today's world. It's a skill which is remembered only by a few. Most ordinary people disbelieve it, or ridicule it... but it is very real. The trouble is that some unscrupulous people with this power use it for their own ends.”

 

“And Cornwallis has this power?”

 

“Yes! It's ma...”

 

“We believe he does,” Gwen's words cut across Fiona's candid explanation, while her warning stare bored into the older woman. Gwen was conscious of Arthur's wish that everyone should remember in their own time, but, more than that, she wasn't sure if Leonard was ready for the whole magic and rebirth conversation.

 

“He's probably studied hypnotism somewhere... like that guy on TV,” Drew said helpfully, abruptly changing his mind and backing Gwen instead. Remembering how badly he'd reacted to the whole reincarnation subject, he was quite happy to leave it up to Merlin or Arthur to explain later. Right at the moment, Leonard was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt and that was good enough for him. This would be the first time they'd cleared a flooded quarry during the night, and according to his research, the Torsay quarries went pretty deep. Another helping hand was welcome. Besides, Sir Leon had been a good man to have beside you in a fight and his modern counterpart looked pretty fit too.

 

Drew had no idea why he suspected any trouble on this particular occasion. He only knew that whoever had created the boiling waters had gone to a lot of bother and he doubted the magic user would be pleased when he realised all his efforts had been in vain. They did have Fiona on their side, but he wasn't sure that an elderly lady who practised healing magic would be a match for a malevolent sorcerer.

 

The five made their preparations as the sun sank below the horizon, leaving behind it a vista of faded blue sky scattered with thin clouds tinted bronze, red and gold. Soon the colours would vanish, but in this part of north-west Scotland at this time of year, darkness would not completely blanket the land nor sea.

 

They climbed aboard their motorboat and headed for Torsay. The water in the Firth of Lorn was unusually calm, pinpricked with silver, mirroring the muted stars which glowed in the pale firmament above them, while the moon floated like an orange disc in the sky, lighting the way. Their journey was short, pleasant though silent, no one wishing to disturb the beautiful stillness of the night.

 

Soon they were disembarking with their gear on an old wooden pier on the east coast of the island. In the moonlight, all four made their way along a grassy path towards the first and largest of the quarries to begin their work. There was a second quarry on the south western coast which needed their attention, but Drew believed that with the help of the Vilia he could finish his task in a few hours and, since Fiona had been using the cleansing spell frequently over the past few days, she could purify the waters quickly. They would be back on Easdale before dawn.

 

Drew wasted no time in donning his wetsuit and breathing apparatus before slipping beneath the deep, murky waters. Left on the shore, the others turned up their collars against a rising west wind which cooled the air and waited, Leonard less than patient to see what it was Drew was searching for. He suspected some kind of pressurised cylinders containing a concoction of gas and chemicals. So, he was somewhat surprised when the diver surfaced much sooner than he'd thought possible and was even more taken aback by his haul. How had Drew managed to find so many small objects in the short time he'd been submerged?

 

And how could such items cause the flooded quarries to erupt like hot springs? Laid on the ground before him was an array of ancient looking silver and gold bracelets and amulets... not at all the sort of things he had expected.

 

“What the hell?” Leonard spluttered, then gasped as all around Drew golden tinged bubbles formed in the air and a female voice seemed to emanate from the largest globule.

 

“Lancelot, this quarry is now clear. Alice, you may now do your work.”

 

The diver removed his mask and Leonard noticed he was smiling, not in any way concerned by the talking bubble which looked remarkably like the face of a pretty woman. In the background, Leonard was vaguely aware of Fiona chanting some words in her ancient Gaelic. What had he got himself into? He felt like he might still be asleep and dreaming in the front room of the cottage, under the effects of the herbalist's potion. Yet the edge of the cold breeze on his face and hands told him differently. Somehow, this was only too real.

 

“Come on,” Gwen said, bending down to shovel the gold and silver jewellery into an old backpack, which she slung over her shoulders and strapped tightly. “We have one more quarry to cleanse, then we can all go home.” She glanced over at Leonard, weighing up his blank expression. “Are you coming, Leonard? I know this is strange, but we will explain everything later. Right now, we still have to complete the job.”

 

As all the others were already walking off down the overgrown track towards the western edge of the island, treading carefully as they went, Leonard found himself meekly following. Though what he'd witnessed made his senses reel, he couldn't help but see this... 'thing', whatever it was, through to the end.

 

The plan was to finish within an hour or so, but unfortunately the group were not alone. Almost at the same time as they'd reached Torsay, a large, sleek raven alighted on the highest point of the isle, preening its feathers before morphing into the shape of a slim man with a pale face topped by sparse brown hair. His cold obsidian eyes watched intently as these puny humans worked on the first quarry, rage threatening to overtake his soul.

 

This was why Arthur Penderel had brought his friends to these islands and why the waters were now mirror-like and serene and, if they had managed to disenchant the tarns, then there must be magic users amongst them. Of course, no one with powers to match his own, as they were just about to discover. The time to punish these inconvenient upstarts had arrived.

 

He raised his hands high, turning... turning, his feathered cloak swaying glossy and black under the moonlight, as he called to the skies and the dark goddesses.

 

“I am returned to Albion!”

 

From way out over the ocean, thunder rumbled.

 

“ **Ic cume eft to Albion, swa thaet ic maeg min faehth awrecan! Nu ic lybbe ece and ic ameg raedan min burh!** ”

 

Beneath his feet the earth reverberated, a gigantic mythical beast awakening, growling violently in its lair. The trees shook down to their very roots, their leaves trembling in the wind, while boulders, large and small, were spewed over the surface of the soil. Along the shoreline, rocks heaved their craggy edges above the waves like broken fangs.

 

But Sigan's anger wasn't appeased. He needed to destroy those who opposed him.

 

Throwing his head back, he incanted again, “ **Cume oferweder! Tidrenas!** ”

 

The wind rose to a swirling gale as storm clouds gathered in the heavens above the island, shot through with lightning bolts. Cold rain fell without mercy.

 

Taken unawares by the sudden change in weather, the two men and three women trudging along the path above the sea were scattered like ninepins to the ground. They staggered around, trying to help each other stand, Leonard grabbing hold of Fiona, who'd fallen directly in front of him. Freya clung to a small bush which was bent almost double in the wild wind, her fingers torn and bleeding by its thorns, yet she held on till Leonard and her aunt reached her.

 

Huddling together for support, they searched desperately around them for Gwen and Drew, but could see no one through the driving wind and rain. Freya roared their names into the buffeting wind.

 

“Gwen! Drew! Where are you?” But her voice was carried away by the gale.

 

“We have to try to get back to the lee side of the island and try to find the boat,” Leonard said, though to be honest, he wasn't totally sure they should take to the water in this storm. Nevertheless, the island didn't seem like the safest place to be either.

 

“No! We can't go without Gwen or Drew,” Freya shouted into his ear. “We have to find them.”

 

“I agree!” Fiona nodded her head violently, since voices could hardly be heard above the howl of the tempest.

 

“I understand how you feel, but we can look for them as we go back,” Leonard offered, feeling guilty, yet also accepting the responsibility for the safety of the two women who held onto him so tightly. “I'm sure Drew will have Gwen safe and they'll be seeking shelter on the other side of the land. The wind's coming in from the Atlantic.”

 

Actually, the gale seemed to be swirling from all angles, but Leonard felt that the eastern shore would offer them the best refuge, since it faced the mainland. Although the women despaired at leaving their friends behind, they did agree that wandering blindly around in such a storm would hardly aid Gwen or Drew. Moving as one, they stumbled and swayed, retracing their steps along the path, propelled by the wind at their back.

 

Unknown to the trio, Gwen had been blown over the edge of the track and down the steep slope towards the flooded shore, where the malevolent waves smashed one after another against the rocks. Drew hadn't hesitated for a second, throwing himself after her, plunging into the sea. A strong swimmer, and already wearing a wet suit, Drew tread water as best he could to search for the woman he'd once loved with all his heart and soul and whom he could easily fall in love with all over again. He admitted that now.

 

Though finding a single, petite person in this roiling tide was nearly impossible, but giving up wasn't an option. He'd never forgive himself if he couldn't save Gwen... and neither would Arthur, the man he'd pledged to support in two lifetimes.

 

Not far away, swept along in the maelstrom, in danger of being crushed against the rocks, Gwen could barely keep her face above water. Breakers surged over her head, threatening to drown her, and only her grim determination forced her to kick up to the surface again. On her back, the bag with the enchanted jewellery was dragging her under, but she felt unreasonably compelled to keep hold of it. Besides, she wasn't sure if she was up to the hassle of removing it, so entangled had the wretched thing become with her hair and clothes.

 

But she was tiring... and the water was so cold, the relentless pounding draining her courage and stamina. She was too exhausted to fight on. With her heart breaking, Gwen bade goodbye to her Arthur as she surrendered to pull of the sea.

 

Yet, it was not Gwen's time to die. Instead, a larger wave swept her up against a cracked pillar of rock where the troublesome backpack lodged in the crevice. For long moments, she dangled there, a sodden rag of flotsam, then dragging all the breath she could into her lungs, Gwen screeched for help since her lips were too frozen to form actual words.

 

“God, help me find her. Don't let her die!” Drew pleaded over and over as he searched the seething waves.

 

He wiped the salty spume from his eyes and, as if in an answer to his prayer, the waters and the winds stilled for just a split second and he heard Gwen's scream; a cry that was quickly cut off by the return of the storm. Yet it was enough to point him in the right direction. He began swimming north along the shoreline and there, clinging to a rock with the last of her strength, he saw Gwen. Striking out with all his skill, he tried to reach her. He would not let her down as he had once in Hengist's lair. With almost superhuman determination, he powered through the stormy waters to reach her side.

 

Gwen, however, was spent. No longer able to bear her weight, one of the rucksack's straps tore and she slipped from her temporary haven. Down below the water she sank, but Drew refused to abandon her. He dived after her, dragging her to the surface and shouting, “Gwen! Gwen, it's me. Don't fight me. I'm here to help.”

 

“Arthur?”

 

“No. It's Drew!”

 

“Lancelot,” Gwen gasped, collapsing into his arms as tears mingled with the seawater streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you... tha...” But she had no more breath to speak.

 

Drew lifted her back up onto the the narrow shelve of rock, holding her there while attempting to capture her stare. “Gwen, we have to get you out of the water or you'll die of hypothermia, but it means swimming the short distance to the shore. Let's get rid of that bag first.”

 

“No! No, we can't,” Gwen cried, sounding on the edge of hysteria. “It saved my life. We need it. It has magic.”

 

Not understanding, yet knowing they didn't have the time nor the energy to argue, Drew decided to humour Gwen. “OK. If you feel you need it, we'll look after it. I can help you, but you have to put your trust in me. Can you do that, Gwen?”

 

In the now deep, black night, Drew thought he saw a ghost of a smile touch Gwen's lips. “With all my heart,” she whispered close against his cheek.

 

 

*****

 

 

On the island, Freya and Fiona with Leonard shepherding them along finally managed to reach the quarry they'd de-enchanted before the storm, but now they had to clamber higher up the slope as the tidal rush from the sound was breaking over the quarry's outer edges and flooding over the path. The elderly lady stumbled and would have fallen into the lochan which had now become part of the firth had it not been for Leonard's strong arm catching her. Thankfully, however, it seemed that the worst of their troubles were over. Once they'd cleared that particular hurdle and started back towards the pier, the wooded hill awarded them some shelter and they were able to make more speed.

 

Yet here they discovered a very strange sight. Farther out in the channel between the island and the mainland, both the Sound of Lorn and the weather appeared fairly calm. It seemed only the island of Torsay and its surrounding water was hit by the tempest.

 

“How the devil does that happen?” Leonard asked, swiping at the water that dripped continually from his hair down his face and neck and running under his jacket and shirt, making him feel even more out of sorts.

 

Silently, Freya concurred with 'the devil', while her aunt said, barely audibly, “Sorcery!”

 

Too bemused to listen to Fiona's suggestion, Leonard did, however, realise that something dire and unfamiliar had happened. He'd heard of localised storms, had heard amazing reports of hailstones the size of golf balls... had even heard about raining frogs... but was it possible to experience a tempest on one small island when less than a mile off the weather looked calm and clement? In the past twenty-four hours he'd witnessed happenings that beggared belief.

 

But his biggest worry was whether it would be possible to reach that safe haven in their small motorboat. They would still have to navigate a stretch of tumultuous sea.

 

“I don't know about you, but I think we should stay here for now,” he suggested, after some consideration. “I know you're both islanders, so you probably know more than me about boats and currents, but I think it's too risky to take to the water yet. It might not be very pleasant here in the wind and rain, but I think we'll be safer.”

 

Freya looked up at him accusingly, her voice sharp as she answered. “Of course we're staying here. We haven't found Gwen and Drew yet and we're not leaving without them.”

 

Leonard nodded in contrition, but felt the ladies needed to face up to a sad and cruel possibility. “True... and I'm sorry. We should wait for a bit, but it might be that... that we've lost them for good. Out in that storm, anything could have happened.” Freya's angry stare struck him almost physically, causing him to stammer another apology. “I know and I'm sorry. It's too soon to give up on them yet. Drew seems like a very capable man...”

 

“You don't realise how much,” Freya countered, pushing her black hair out of her eyes and scanning the path behind them with an equal measure of wishful thinking and despair, praying to see the couple appear. “And Gwen's not the type to give up either. They'll be hiding somewhere safe, waiting for the storm to abate.”

 

“Yes, and when it does, we can go looking for them,” Fiona announced, putting an end to Leonard's unspoken recommendation to leave the island when the wind and rain cleared. “They could be hurt and are just waiting for our help, and I intend to make sure they get it.” With the gravitas of age, Fiona finished the argument. “We arrived on this island together and that's the way we're leaving... together!”

 

*****

 

Eventually, Drew and Gwen won their fight against the ocean and were washed up on the shelving bank by the tide. They lay exhausted, arms still entwined, until a stronger wave threatened to suck them back into the vortex.

 

“Gwen, come on. We've got to climb to higher ground.” Gwen's eyes remained shut, her lashes seemingly glued to her skin by a mixture of smudged eye makeup and drying sea salt, but behind her lids, the involuntary movement of her eyes betrayed her agitation. “Gwen! Please. You can't sleep here. It's too dangerous. I can't lose you now.”

 

The desperation in Drew's voice reached Gwen and she lifted her head, her eyes fluttering open. “You won't lose me. But I'm so tired. Can't I rest for a bit?”

 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out and Drew cursed himself, yet Gwen didn't appear to mind. He leaned closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “The waves can still reach us here. We have to move. I'll help you as much as I can.”

 

Thankfully, she responded and attempted to lift herself up to her knees where she remained, swaying back and forth, her muscles buckling under the strain. “Sorry. I don't think I can stand,” she explained on a sob.

 

Drew shook his head. “Don't worry. We don't have to. Maybe it's better if we crawl.”

 

An unexpected laugh broke from her mouth which turned into a hacking cough as sea water was expelled from her lungs. There was another interminable wait for the convulsions to subside before she could reply. “I think I can manage a crawl, Lancelot.”

 

Drew was completely taken aback at the name. That was the second time she'd called him Lancelot and she never used that name in this present time. Was it a simple mistake brought on by exhaustion and stress, or was she hallucinating, or had she lost her memory? She might have hit her head on the rocks while she was in the water. However, true to her word, she began edging up the slope, leaning heavily on his shoulder and still dragging that blasted bag behind her. The possible explanations bore down on Drew, but what did it matter? The immediate task was to get her to safety and they could worry about head traumas later.

 

Inch by inch, he encouraged her to scramble crablike up the muddy bank. Once, his heart leapt into his throat as they slipped and slid backwards in a welter of rain, spume and slime. He dug in, braced himself with his hands and feet, his body shielding her, cradling her until he steadied their descent.

 

He began to climb again, hauling an almost unconscious Gwen after him, till at last, they reached the safety of the path. Only then did he allow himself to rest, his breathing erratic, his muscles cramped and hurting. How long he lay there he wasn't sure. It could have been a few minutes, or half an hour, before Gwen's violent shivering stirred his befuddled mind. Her body was in danger of going into shock and his military training took over.

 

With hands almost numb with cold, he peeled off his wet suit, leaving only his lycra dive skin and knelt beside her. Lifting her off the ground, he pulled her as close to his body as possible, trying to share what little was left of his own heat. He cleared the mud and dirt from her mouth and nose, making sure her airway was open and was relieved when he felt her breath stabilize against his face. Systematically, he began rubbing her limbs, hoping to aid the circulation in her arms and legs and was rewarded when her eyes opened. Her gaze, at first blank, slowly focussed on his face, still tired and confused, but with a spark of her inborn tenderness.

 

“Thank you. You saved me.”

 

He smiled back at her, his brown eyes filling with tears. “Always, Gwen. But now we have to get out of here. Find the others and get off this damned island.” Brave as ever, Gwen ignored her pain and weakness and tried to stand. “No, Gwen. I'll carry you.”

 

It took some moments for Drew to find his own strength and the rain still fell relentlessly, though the wind had eased to a stiff blow. He slipped one arm under her knees while his other surrounded her shoulders, his hand tucked in the pit of her arm, then he stood erect. His earlier efforts, when he'd searched for her in the waves, had weakened him, but he held fast until his legs stopped shaking. With every ounce of his will he forced himself to walk back along the ruined pathway, avoiding, as best he could, the deeper pools of water and the trees and bushes which the wind had brought down.

 

She laid her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder, her light breath warm on his skin, though he tried valiantly to ignore the sensation of desire she provoked in him. Gwen belonged to another... his friend. But he couldn't resist the surge of hope which threatened to overtake him as she whispered, contentedly.

 

“You came for me. I knew you would, Lancelot. I knew you wouldn't abandon me.” Weakly, her hand came up and touched his cheek, his lips.

 

“Never!” he vowed, a lover's promise. Yet after a shaky jolt of his heart, he thrust his feelings aside. “We'll be safe soon. We'll find the others and we'll get back to Easdale. Fiona will look after you... and then I'll take you back to Arthur. But, Gwen, when we're with Leonard, perhaps it would be safer if you didn't call me Lancelot.” He stopped for a moment to engage her eyes. “I'm Drew. Remember?”

 

But she shook her head hesitantly, her brows drawing down in doubt, her beautiful eyes full of questions. “I don't understand. Why would you take me to Arthur? And who is Drew?”

 

Witnessing the scene from a dead and broken tree on the hill, Sigan was almost beside himself with glee. There was a shimmer in the air and the sorcerer's eyes turned as hard as polished jet as he incanted his glamour spell.

 

“ **Awendednes!** ”

 

The raven which moments before had been a man, cawed hilariously before launching itself from its perch into the smoke-black, churning clouds, beating its way through the tempest, soaring on the updraughts. Oh, this was priceless. His rival was about to lose his one true love and he'd never even initiated that result. How would Arthur deal with the betrayal by his girlfriend and his best friend?

 

Satisfied, the bird directed its flight towards the south and safety, leaving behind a trail of devastation and broken dreams. The Isle of Torsay and Arthur and his small band of brothers would not forget his first night of revenge.

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's my offering for this week. Again, I'd love to hear your opinions. Thanks for reading.


	26. Under a Spell?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is afraid that part of the life in Camelot is repeating itself in the present day. He only hopes that this time he can keep Arthur safe. At least he has Arthur's full trust this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazinlgy, I'm on schedule with the posting. Once again, thanks for continuing to read.
> 
> Telepathic communication is shown in italics.

Chapter Twenty-six

 

Under a Spell?

 

 

 

Arthur and Ygraine left Benedict's bedside for the airport late at night. Both were overjoyed that Anna had been found, but their happiness was touched by apprehension. Why had Anna been held prisoner by Morgause and what had happened to her during that time? Arthur had already spoken to Merlin by phone, and though his friend promised to bring Anna straight home, he certainly had been evasive. He assured Arthur he'd explain more fully when he returned, but that had only served to trouble Arthur all the more. What was so terrible that he couldn't mention over the phone network?

 

At least he'd heard from Gwen earlier in the evening when she'd told him that the Easdale contingent intended to purge the quarries on Torsay overnight so that she, Freya and Drew could return early the next morning. He couldn't wait to see her again. He valued her knowledgeable advice, but he simply longed to bask in the understanding gaze of her brown eyes, to kiss her lovely mouth and entangle his fingers in her unruly curls and feel a depth of passion he'd experienced with no other woman. He was so looking forward to holding her close again, relieved that he was here to keep her safe from harm.

 

And more than all these things, they would make plans for their wedding. Whilst he'd never considered it much before, he thought September would make a lovely month in which to be married... and it wasn't so very far away. The sooner Gwen became his wife, the happier he'd be. He knew, without a shadow of doubt, he could face up to every problem with Gwen by his side.

 

Arthur's reverie was broken by an excited squeal and a voice crying out, “Arthur! Mother! How glad I am to be home.” Anna launched herself at her brother. “It's so good to see you both... and I'm so sorry to have caused you any worry.”

 

Almost choking from his sister's friendly hug about his neck, he returned her squeeze before prising her arms apart, freeing her to immediately turn into her mother's embrace, while Arthur looked on, smiling. “It's good to have you home, Anna... and from what Rhys has told me, it wasn't exactly your fault that you couldn't return.”

 

“No, it wasn't! Though I was the one who went looking for a story in the beginning.” Anna's eyes darkened. There was no denying that she'd felt strangely drawn to Eloise, but, for the life of her, she couldn't explain why. Instead, she quickly brushed her angry thoughts aside, anxiety triumphing over resentment for the present. “But how is Dad? Can I see him? Is he going to be OK?” Her questions came fast and furious.

 

Still holding her daughter in her arms, Ygraine spoke, as she studied Anna's face carefully, searching for signs of an enchantment. “Your father had a massive stroke, Anna, though I'm sure Rhys has already explained that. We did fear for his life at first, but he's a strong man and the doctors believe he's going to live... but, Anna, he is seriously ill.” Ygraine had to swallow back her tears. “He can't talk and he has no movement down his right-hand side, but it's very early days yet and physiotherapy will possibly help with that. Right now he is conscious, and I'm sure he'd love to see you. Come along, I'll take you to him.”

 

“Yes, please, Mum. I have to see him. I'll never forgive myself for not being there for him... and you.”

 

Ygraine shook her head. “You musn't think like that, my dear. There was nothing you could have done... and you're here now. That's what's important.” Ygraine linked her arm through her daughter's and led her towards the exit and the car which was waiting to take them to the hospital.

 

Watching them go, Arthur called after them, “Mother, I'll stay behind and pick up Anna's luggage and I have to talk to Rhys. I'll catch up with you both later.”

 

Mother and daughter turned together, smiling their thanks, then hurried away. “Try not to be too long,” Ygraine said, her voice floating easily back to her son over the late night sounds of the concourse.

 

Arthur strode over to Rhys and Wayne who'd hung back to give the family some space, and shook both their hands. “Thank you for finding her and bringing her home so quickly. You've no idea what a relief it is to see her... but do either of you have any idea what happened?”

 

“Not a clue!” Wayne shook his head. “The house does belong to Morgause Le Faye, as you suggested, but she wasn't there. No one was, apart from Anna, and the house was locked. Rhys heard someone screaming for help, so we broke in and found Anna in an attic room. We got her out fast... in case anybody came back. We still have no idea why that woman took Anna... but your sister seems fine. She isn't showing any side effects that I can see, which probably means they didn't hurt her, and that has to be a good thing.”

 

“I totally agree,” Arthur replied, nodding and placing a grateful hand on the reporter's shoulder. “Thanks for all your help, Wayne. I owe you.” Yet Arthur wasn't as sanguine as his tone suggested. He'd noticed Merlin's troubled glance.

 

Wayne shrugged. He seemed to do that quite a lot. “I didn't do much... not without Rhys here. And knowing Anna is safe is thanks enough. Now, if you don't mind, some of us have to work tomorrow, so I'll say goodnight.” Wayne was about to saunter off, when he turned back to the two men. “Oh, and don't worry that you'll be hearing about this in the media. I know when to keep my mouth shut. Tell Anna I was glad to be of help.”

 

A genuine wide grin lit up Arthur's face and he gave another quick nod. “Again, thank you. I'll pass your message to the lady in question, but I'm sure she'll want to thank you in person.”

 

“I look forward to that.” Wayne's laugh was just as bright. “Cheerio for now... Oh, and Rhys, it was nice to meet you. I think we made quite a team.”

 

“We did! Night, Wayne.” Rhys also smiled. “Keep in touch.”

 

Arthur and Merlin watched as Wayne loped casually away, yet both were sure that his feelings concerning Anna were not as laid-back as he pretended.

 

“I hope Anna does keep in touch with him,” Arthur mused, starting to walk towards the exit to where his car was parked. “I think he could be one of the most suitable boyfriends she's ever had... and, believe me, there have been many. I know my mother liked him. Actually, I wouldn't mind introducing Wayne into our select little band. Mind you, Merlin, don't say a word. If Wayne wants to remember, he will.”

 

“I understand,” Merlin said, falling into step by Arthur's side. “Wayne has a lot of Gwaine's attributes and I'm sure he'd be a big help to us, though he might not be so ready to stick around Anna if he does get his memory back. Morgana wasn't exactly friendly towards the knights. In fact, she tortured Gwaine to find out where you were, then left him to die. So don't worry. I've no intention of reminding him.”

 

Arthur halted in his tracks. “I never thought of that. You know, Merlin, it's probably better for quite a number of people if they never remember their past lives.”

 

“You'll get no arguments from me on that score, but I'm not sure it's up to us.”

 

“God! That's a situation that could get really messy.” Arthur considered the implications for a few seconds, his brow furrowed, his head inclined towards the warlock. “Any ideas on what we should do?”

 

“Nope. All we can do is be around to pick up the pieces,” Merlin suggested while Arthur gave his friend a long, narrow stare before walking off again.

 

“ _I'm sorry if it's not the answer you were looking for, but just because I'm fifteen hundred years old doesn't mean I know everything.”_ Merlin resorted to telepathy, not wishing to announce his actual age to everyone in the terminal.

 

Arthur stopped again and glanced back over his shoulder. _“I'm sorry. I guess I expect too much of you. It's not as if you asked to live forever... Did you?”_

 

“No. Hell no! Of course not!” Merlin was so shocked, he spoke out loud.

 

Arthur shrugged and gave Merlin one of his most angelic smiles. “Look, I really am sorry. You're not alone anymore, Rhys. Whatever happens to our friends, we'll face it together. Come on,” he commanded in his best King Arthur voice, marching off once more.

 

Merlin stuck his hands in his pockets and trailed after Arthur. “Now where are we off to?”

 

“I'm going back to the hospital, but you don't have to. You've had a long day, so if you want to go home, I'd understand. I can give you a lift.”

 

“Definitely not!” They'd reached the way out and the automatic doors opened in front of them. “We've got a lot to talk about... and I'd like to get to know Anna a little better.”

 

There was silence between the two as Arthur waited till an airport bus drove passed, then they both ran across the road to where his car was parked. “You think there is something wrong with Anna? I thought as much.”

 

“I can't say for sure, but I could feel a heavy presence of dark magic in that house,” Merlin said thoughtfully, wondering how many of the details of his past life Arthur truly remembered and how strong were his powers of deduction.

 

“Plus, why would Morgause kidnap Anna and not use her? We've already established she doesn't need the money. My guess is she intends to use Anna to get back at me and my family.” They'd reached Arthur's car and both climbed inside. “The question is how. Unless you already know?” He sent Merlin a quizzical look before driving off.

 

“I think I do.” Merlin allowed Arthur to negotiate his way out of the car park, then continued. “You're not going to like it though.”

 

“Merlin, I haven't liked a lot of things about this since I discovered who I really am and that there are still sorcerers intent on destroying me and Camelot.”

 

“But you're not against magic this time around... Are you?” Merlin frowned, almost afraid to hear the answer... and it seemed Arthur was taking his time to decide how to reply, which didn't exactly bode well.

 

“I wouldn't say against exactly.” He slipped his car into a higher gear as he took the slip road to the dual carriageway. “I realise there's a huge difference between good magic users and the ones who use it for their own evil gains. I'd like to rid the world of them, but I don't intend to mount a crusade against all sorcerers... even if I could. I don't have that kind of power, besides I'd most likely become a laughing stock. No one believes in real magic these days and I think it's probably best for the world if it stays that way. Mind you, I'm very happy to have you back as my friend, with or without your magic.” There was another few seconds of silence, till Arthur admitted somewhat anxiously. “This world still isn't a very forgiving place, particularly when it comes to something it doesn't understand or control. I don't want to lose you, Merlin.”

 

Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. “Nor I you. And I'm glad you've learned that all magic beings aren't the same. Some of us actually just want to help.”

 

“How could I fail to recognise that when I know you, Fiona and Gaius. Though I'm not sure Gaius qualifies in this lifetime. Does Richard Grayson have magic?”

 

“Arthur, you never lose your magical abilities,” Merlin answered with certainty. “But I suspect, as a doctor in this day and age, he might not need to use them.”

 

“True!” Arthur changed lanes to head for Cardiff and Vale. “But what about Anna? As far as I know, she's never done anything the least bit magical. In fact, I think she'd probably die laughing if you mentioned she was witch.”

 

“Just because she's never had to use witchcraft, doesn't mean she couldn't.” Merlin stared out the side window of the car, while his fingers drummed on his knee, a clear sign that he was perturbed.

 

“Spit it out, Merlin. It's obvious since I picked you up at the airport that you have something to tell me about Anna... apart from feeling a malicious presence in that house... and don't try to fob me off. I've gotten pretty good this time at spotting when you're evading the issue. Besides, she's my sister and I have a right to know.”

 

Deciding to fight for a little more time, Merlin suggested, “Perhaps we should wait till we're with your mother. I'd rather not explain this twice.”

 

“Merlin!” It was clear Arthur's patience was running out, as he sent his friend a disapproving side-ways glare. “And I can pass your findings on to Mother.” He was tempted to stop the car, but they were actually on a freeway with no hard-shoulder. “Don't keep me in suspense, Merlin. You wouldn't like to make me angry.”

 

“What? Will you turn green, grow muscles and split your clothes... apart from acting like a prize pratt?”

 

“Very funny! Now I think you've put your story off for too long... and we're nearly at the hospital. I'd rather know what to look out for with Anna.”

 

“OK. Fine!” Merlin stated, twisting sideways in his seat to face Arthur. “Just promise me you won't crash the car.”

 

“Merlin!”

 

“Can you cast your mind back to your first life, to a time when you were married to Guinevere. We lost her for a few days and eventually found her in the Dark Tower.”

 

“When Elyan was killed?” Arthur's hands tightened on the steering wheel, remembering... anger bubbling inside him at the memory. He should have been the first one up those stairs, but Elyan had felt responsible for losing Guinevere and had wanted to be the one to return her to Camelot. He'd pushed passed Arthur and had been the one to find Gwen. He'd fought an enchanted sword that couldn't be beaten, and it had dealt Elyan a mortal blow. Yet the trap had been meant for King Arthur. He should have been the one to enter that room first. He should have been the one who died... but, even as Elyan passed away in Guinevere's arms, he'd had no inkling of the terrible truth they were facing.

 

“That's partly the incident I'm referring to. We were so relieved to find Gwen safe and well, that we didn't think anything was wrong... but after a few days, it became apparent that she wasn't herself.”

 

“Became apparent to you, Merlin. I was totally oblivious. What kind of husband did that make me?” Arthur's blue eyes were stark with guilt and pain, though he concentrated on staring at the road ahead.

 

“A very thankful one who was so happy to have his wife back that you didn't recognise the signs of an enchantment. Hell, even I didn't realise until after she'd poisoned you and accused me.”

 

Arthur gritted his teeth and glanced quickly at the one person who was an expert on magic. He had to know what they were facing. “You think it might be the same with Anna? The truth, Merlin. I don't want it gift-wrapped and tied with a pink bow.”

 

“I believe that Anna is enchanted, but I have no idea what Morgause wants from her,” Merlin said, trying for Arthur's sake to keep calm, though his drumming fingers betrayed his inner torment. Why was history starting to repeat itself and was he powerful enough to change the original outcome of Camlann and save Arthur this time? He had to be!

 

“Right! But just because you don't know what she'll be asked to do, doesn't mean I'm not taking your warning to heart. So, once again, Merlin, tell me what you do suspect?”

 

Merlin cleared his throat and began. “One of Morgause's favourite magic devices was the mandrake root. If you remember, she got Morgana to hide it in Uther's chambers and it near drove him mad.”

 

“It would have succeeded if you and Gaius hadn't found it.” Arthur threw Merlin a speculative look. “Though, knowing what I know now, I suspect that most of that was your doing... and Gaius only supported your findings.”

 

“Not exactly. I followed Morgana and overheard her plotting with Morgause, so I knew what to look for.” Merlin deliberately left out the part where he'd been caught by the two witches and would have most certainly died had it not been for the Great Dragon rescuing him. Arthur might not be ready for that yet. He decided to stick to the relevant facts. “I could see these roots were harming Uther, but it was Gaius who explained the details: that a mandrake root could drive someone to insanity. We burned the tuber and Uther recovered.”

 

“But that wasn't what happened with Guinevere. You told me about something called the Teine Diaga, if I remember correctly?” This time, Arthur took his eyes of the road for longer to peer at his friend. The days he was remembering had been some of the worst in that long ago life. His hands involuntary snatched at the wheel.

 

“God! You've got a memory like an elephant,” Merlin said, grabbing Arthur's arm. “But could you pay attention to the road? If we crash, we'll not be in a position to help anyone.” When his friend muttered an apology, Merlin continued more kindly. “Arthur, I should explain that magical devices can be used in various ways, depending on the enchantment and ritual which is attached to them. I'm afraid whatever I can tell you about Guinevere will be part speculation.”

 

“Then humour me. I do trust you... and I'm sure you know more about magic than anyone else with a pulse. Even an idiot like you, Merlin, has to have learned something in over a thousand years.” But the twinkle in Arthur's eyes proved he was only teasing.

 

Merlin couldn't suppress the age-old retort. “Dollop-head!” And for a few seconds they shared a laugh to relieve the tension, but neither could deny their anxieties for long. “I'd say that when Guinevere was locked in that tower, she was subjected to the influence of many mandrake roots which made her hallucinate, just like your father. However, Morgana was there to use Gwen's fears to brainwash her and turn her against you and everything she loved. Until we managed to cleanse her, she was Morgana's puppet.”

 

“And you think Anna is now Morgause's pawn?”

 

“Arthur, in that room where we found her there were these black oily stains on the floor. The same stains that we saw in Uther's bedroom...”

 

“From the mandrake root?”

 

“Yes. And if Anna was put through the same torment as Gwen, then she could very easily be under Morgause's control, even if she seems perfectly fine.”

 

Arthur nodded, taking the exit road which led to Cardiff and Vale Hospital. “Then we have to watch her. If Morgause is still targeting Uther, then we have to make sure Anna's not alone with my father. He's completely helpless. He couldn't defend himself against her.” Arthur shook his head slowly, sadly. “God! He wouldn't even try. He loves her. We all do.”

 

“I agree, but Benedict might not be her only target. Remember, Morgause hates you just as much.”

 

“True. But this time I know what to expect... and I'm sure I can rely on you to watch my back.”

 

“Don't I always,” Merlin said with another smile, trying to lighten the mood again. “But be careful, Arthur. Morgause probably let us rescue Anna and she has to be keeping a careful watch on her. We don't want to alert her to the fact that we know what she's up to.”

 

Driving into a parking space, Arthur switched off the engine and turned to Merlin, his blue eyes filled with an almost forlorn hope. “If we find out that this is all true... can we heal Anna the way we did Guinevere?”

 

“I'm sure we can. You reached the part of Gwen that was untouched by Morgana's evil. Your love for Gwen and hers for you allowed the White Goddess to purify Gwen's spirit. We can do the same for Anna. Like you said, in this lifetime Anna is loved by many people.”

 

Feeling a little more optimistic, the two friends strode through the automatic doors on their way to find Ygraine and Anna. First they had to warn Ygraine of their suspicions and then they had to arrange to take Anna to the Cauldron of Arainrhod.

 

“One thing, Merlin. This time you won't have to dress up as a woman!” Arthur said with a smirk.

 

“And you never recognised me!” Merlin said cheekily while he reached out to punch Arthur's arm in retaliation. “But thank God I don't have to go through that again.”

 

“And thank God for something else. At least, this time I know Gwen is out of harm's way,” Arthur stated with great feeling as they approached the elevator to carry them up to Benedict's floor.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Dad! Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry... so...” The words stuck in Anna's throat and tears streamed down her pale face as she slid into the chair by her father's bed. Her mother had warned her that Benedict was extremely ill, but she'd not been prepared for just how near he'd been to death's door. The monitoring machines still bleeped at his side and he looked so frail and diminished that she was almost afraid to touch him. “I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. Please forgive me. I didn't know.”

 

Ygraine's hands rested on Anna's shoulders and her mother leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You mustn't blame yourself. The messages never reached you.”

 

“But I should have come home for your party. You'd planned it for weeks. I said I'd be there.” She twisted in her seat to look up at her mother, yet she kept hold of Benedict's hand. “I'm the one who didn't bother to come home, who was too busy chasing down a story... and looked what happened.”

 

“You couldn't know that woman meant to harm you,” Ygraine said gently, wiping at Anna's tears with her handkerchief. “There will be other parties, sweetheart, and Daddy will be there. He's going to get better. I know it doesn't seem possible now, but your father is strong. He's a fighter. You'll see.”

 

Under her fingers, Anna felt a tug and she quickly swung back to face the bed. Her father had awakened, his eyelids had barely lifted, but she knew he could see her. His eyes watered and tears wet his sunken cheeks, while his hand clung weakly to hers. He tried to say her name, but only managed to croak a single, “Ah.”

 

Anna's heart broke. “I'm here now, Daddy, and I'm going to stay with you. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do. I'm going to help you get better,” she promised, a solemn vow.

 

In the background, Arthur and Merlin had entered the room noiselessly. Now Arthur came to stand by the other side of Benedict's bed. “And I, Dad. You don't need to worry about anything... the family, or the firm. Annie Carr's taking over the CEO's position. She's a very efficient and trustworthy friend. She won't let you down.”

 

This news appeared to upset the patient as he frowned and the one side of his mouth over which he had control drooped almost on a par with the other, while the monitors showed an increase in his heart and respiratory rate. Arthur lifted his father's hand, soothing him and immediately explaining, “Dad, I know you thought I'd take over, but that's not practical for now. Annie has more experience than I do, besides her taking charge allows me the freedom to track down the people who want to ruin us and the firm. Troubleshooting is what I do best. You know that. In fact, we've already managed to fix the turbulent waters and clear the fracking plant of blame.”

 

“Arthur's right, my darling.” Ygraine's long fingers stroked her husband's brow. “You know he is,” she said, backing her son, though, in truth, neither Ygraine nor Arthur were sure how much Benedict truly grasped, or remembered. He clearly recognised his family and had some understanding... but no one could know how much. Deciding to test the waters, Ygraine waved Rhys forward. “And here's Rhys come to see you. He very kindly went over to France and brought Anna home for you. We have a lot to thank him for.”

 

Benedict gave a twisted, weary smile in the young man's direction and his left hand, which was still tucked in Anna's moved on the bed cover, but he didn't attempt to speak. Indeed, it was clear the patient was tiring.

 

Merlin spoke up. “I was glad to help, Mr Penderel, and I'll continue to work with Arthur to stop whoever is trying to harm your family. Please try not to worry and just concentrate on getting well.”

 

“Yes, Dad. Rhys is right,” Arthur said, nodding his thanks to Merlin. “I promise Camelot will still be yours when you're ready to take over again.”

 

Another shadow of a smile touched Benedict's face, but his gaze lost its focus, though he did incline his head towards his wife and daughter. It didn't take rocket science to realise that the family needed time to rest and be together, so Merlin said quietly but quickly, “I hope you don't mind, Arthur, but it has been a long day and I'd like to go home to get some sleep. It was good to meet you, Anna.” If he was honest, Merlin still didn't know if that were true, but if Anna had been possessed by Morgause's dark magic, then it was up to him to help rescue her... but in the future. Tonight he just wanted to fall into bed. “Take care, Mrs Penderel,” he added as he turned to go, but Ygraine stopped him with a gentle reminder.

 

“Rhys, I thought I told you to call me Ygraine.” She walked across the room to him and laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me. It means more than I can say. For that and everything else you've done... words aren't enough. You're part of our family. Goodnight, my dear, and sleep well.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, before returning to the bedside.

 

Arthur too followed him to the door. “Come on, Rhys. I'll walk you out... and why don't I give you a key to my apartment. You can sleep in the spare room again. And don't say no. That's an order!” Arthur said sternly, but a grin went with his words. “You do look dead beat and my home is much closer.” As the two men walked to the elevator, Arthur echoed his mother's words. “You do know that I can't thank you enough for saving Anna.”

 

“Arthur, we don't know if she is saved... not yet and not completely.”

 

“Exactly!” The two men stopped in front of the lift and Arthur leaned forward to press the call button. “But she is home, which is why I want you close at hand. Not to mention that Freya will be coming back with Gwen and Drew in the morning and I'm assuming you'd like to meet her at the airport.”

 

“You bet!” Suddenly, Merlin's enthusiastic smile brightened his jaded appearance. “In that case, I won't refuse your offer of bed and breakfast. I take it breakfast is included?” he laughed as he asked.

 

“I think I can manage breakfast... as long as you don't want a full English one.”

 

“Nah. I'd probably have to cook my own.”

 

“I do have pancakes,” Arthur said laughingly, happy to escape his present worries in a moment of banter.

 

“Well, if you have maple syrup I suppose I could make do.” Merlin capitulated with another grin and as the elevator arrived, he took the pass key from Arthur and waved goodbye.

 

“Don't wait up for me, Rhys.” Arthur called as the car doors slid together. “I might be late.”

 

Merlin shrugged. It was already late... It's always darkest before the dawn. Now why the hell did that thought spring into his mind?

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked what you read and if you do, I'd love to hear your thoughts. In fact, I'd love to hear from you even if you have complaints... as long as you're not too cruel. I don't have a very thick skin. :)


	27. A Heart is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur isn't happy and Merlin solves a very ancient mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I'm posting on time. Thanks for sticking with this story and for new readers who are leaving kudos.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-seven

 

A Heart is Broken

 

 

It seemed to Merlin that he'd only closed his eyes when he was shaken rudely awake, yet he was so sleepy he resisted the demand with all his strength. The hand on his shoulder and the impatient voice which was calling his name, however, refused to go away.

 

“Rhys! Merlin!” Another shake. “Merlin, wake up. I need you.”

 

For that moment in between sleeping and waking, he imagined himself back in Camelot with an angry King demanding his attention... but then the voice relented and softened.

 

“Merlin, come on, mate. Please wake up. Something terrible has happened.”

 

The desperate note in Arthur's words roused Merlin and he opened his eyes to see an anxious Arthur staring down at him. “What's wrong?” he croaked, his vocal cords taking longer to respond to full consciousness. “Is it your father? Or Anna? He struggled to sit up. “Has she turned?”

 

“Turned where?” A perplexed frown creased Arthur's brow. “Merlin, sometimes you do talk rubbish.”

 

Clearly whatever catastrophe had occurred had nothing to do with Anna nor Benedict. “Arthur, sit down, slow down and tell me why you've woken me up with the dawn.” But now his friend, contrary as ever, seemed struck dumb as he stood there shaking his head. “Arthur? You're stressing me out. Tell me!”

 

“It's Torsay,” Arthur collapsed onto the edge of the bed, squashing Merlin's legs. “It's almost disappeared. They're saying there was a hurricane... and maybe an earthquake as well. They can't be sure.”

 

Merlin's eyebrows rose and he ran a hand through his bed-tousled hair. “Who said?”

 

“It's on the news... everywhere. We were leaving the hospital when I saw a News channel on the TV in the concourse. They were reporting on a hurricane or some such thing on Torsay... Merlin, Gwen was on that island. I tried calling her; actually I tried calling all of them, but I can only get through to voice-mail. All their mobiles are unavailable.”

 

“Have you tried Freya?” With difficulty, Merlin managed to disentangle his legs and get up.

 

“I said I tried everyone. Merlin, she was on the island, too, and Drew and Fiona. Gwen phoned last night just before they sailed. They all went, even that Leonard Cameron.”

 

Hiking up a pair of Arthur's jogging pants which he'd used to sleep in, Merlin hurried through to the living room and switched on the television. Arthur was right. Most of the channels were reporting on the disaster. A somewhat harassed looking reporter was standing in a small motorboat which was bobbing up and down in the water, trying to explain something that was almost inexplicable. Behind him there was a clear view of an island where the trees were flattened and a high tide swept up against the broken shoreline. Torsay looked as if a giant had stepped on it during the night, tearing the island apart.

 

The somewhat bemused correspondent continued. “Fortunately, it appears that the island was uninhabited, though there were some students picnicking there yesterday, but thankfully they'd left before the storm struck and all are accounted for.”

 

The feed then switched to the mainland and to a group of teenagers who were giving their accounts. The group agreed that when they left around 10pm the night before the weather was calm and there had been no sign that anything was amiss, certainly not that a hurricane was approaching. From the students, the TV footage moved on to a representative from the Met Office who stated that no one could have forecast the coming storm because it had materialised out of nowhere. In fact, according to the weather person, such a localised storm of this magnitude was very abnormal, especially since there had been no indication from any of the weather satellites or radar over the previous days to predict that the event was imminent.

 

“Magic!” Merlin stated, his voice flat, as he exchanged a horrified look with Arthur.

 

The blond man didn't argue. A lump of ice had lodged in Arthur's heart since he'd failed to contact Gwen. “Sigan or Morgause?” Though he didn't wait for an answer. “My bet's on Sigan. We know he was on Seil a few days ago... and he tried to raise Camelot to the ground once before.”

 

Arthur's land line buzzed like an angry bee, causing both men to jump, though Arthur was on it within seconds. “Hello! Gwen?”

 

“No. It's Drew...” He got no further.

 

“What's wrong with Gwen?” Arthur demanded, worry wiping out courtesy.

 

“Nothing! She's safe.” Drew's reassurance came fast, though there was consternation in his tone, which Arthur didn't recognise, fortunately. How did you explain to a best friend that the woman he loved had somehow changed her allegiance? “We're all OK, we've been checked out by the paramedics and we're mostly fine. Arthur, Gwen got swept out to sea, but I managed to find her and bring her back... but the medics want to take her to Oban Hospital.”

 

“Why? It's not nothing! What is wrong with her?”

 

“Apart from almost drowning and exposure? They think she might have a concussion.”

 

“Oh, dear God! Then get her to the hospital immediately.” Though Arthur would give his right arm to see Gwen as soon as was possible, he pushed his own needs aside. Her health came first... above everything.

 

“Arthur...” Again Drew tried to confess, but once more, Arthur interrupted.

 

“Thank you! For saving her... I can't tell you how much that means to me. Drew, if I'd lost her...”

 

There was a moment of deep stillness as both men considered their respective futures... with or without Gwen. Then Arthur spoke up. “In fact, you should all get checked out at the hospital. Surviving that storm is almost a miracle.” Arthur, at last, noticed Merlin's anxious expression. The warlock's body was as tense as a bow string. “How's Freya?”

 

“Freya's well. She, Fiona and Leonard made it to the lee-side of the island with not much more than a few cuts and bruises. Leonard's a good man, Arthur. He took care of them.”

 

“Freya's fine, Merlin. Drew says she's OK,” Arthur said quickly and sympathetically, before returning to his phone conversation. “Tell Leonard I owe him big time, but it does sound like you should all get up to Oban. I've had experience with that hospital and they're good people. Merlin and I will get there as soon as we can.”

 

With a short goodbye and a promise to meet them in Oban, Arthur replaced the phone on its cradle, but quickly picked it up again and dialled.

 

“We're going to Oban?” Merlin asked, his fears only a little way abated.

 

“Yes. The jet's already in Glasgow and we can't wait for its return, so we need another source of transport,” Arthur explained to his friend, as his call was answered. It was a very brief conversation, but obviously a successful one, as Arthur turned to Merlin, saying with just the hint of a smile and a lot of impatience. “Come on, Merlin. Don't just stand there, get yourself ready. A friend of mine has a small plane and he's agreed to fly us up to Oban Airport. We're meeting him in an hour. So, get moving, lazybones. No time to waste!” And with that, Arthur turned to head for his bedroom.

 

“But what about Anna?” Merlin's question stopped Arthur in his tracks.

 

“What about her? She's gone home with my mother.”

 

“But didn't we say someone has to keep a close eye on her?”

 

Arthur's teeth bit into his bottom lip for a second or two. “Well, you can stay, if you think she's an immediate danger... but I need to see Gwen.”

 

“And I'd like to see Freya,” Merlin said stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Merlin! Freya's not hurt and I'm sure she'll phone you the minute she can. I promise to bring her back with me. In fact, I could ask Archie to bring her back to Cardiff.”

 

“Who's Archie?”

 

“The guy with the plane... the pilot who's flying us up there... unless you feel you're needed here?” At Merlin's look of reproach, Arthur relented. “Nah! I didn't think so. Oh, and I'm going to call Wayne and ask him to keep an eye on Anna.”

 

Merlin frowned. “You're going to tell him she has magic?”

 

“No, of course not. I'll just tell him that we suspect Morgause, or one of her associates, might try to grab Anna again. Knowing the way Wayne feels, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to protect her.” Again, Arthur went off to get ready, but he said over his shoulder. “I'm also going to talk to my mother and Matthew. Both of them can recognise magic when they see it.”

 

“Actually, if we have time to drive by your parent's house, Arthur, I could put one of those protective wards over it; stop anyone from practising magic in or around it.”

 

“Good idea!”

 

“It should keep them safe,” Merlin said, though he added less confidently, “except from a very powerful and concerted attack.”

 

Arthur's blue eyes narrowed intently. “As in Morgause and Sigan?”

 

“Arthur, we've no evidence that they're casting spells together. They didn't even know each other back in Camelot days. They lived hundreds of years apart.”

 

“And sorcerers never meet up beyond the veil?”

 

“How should I know? I've never died. But I doubt they hold magic users' conventions where they sit around and compare spells.”

 

A mirthless laugh broke from Arthur's lips. “I've been dead for over a thousand years... the Once and Future King, and I hadn't the slightest idea till I met you and cracked my head.” Arthur paced to the window and gazed, unseeingly, across the bay. “I remember most of my old life and all of my new, but I've absolutely no idea what happened in between... in this world or the other. It's just a blank... no sense of time or place... just nothing.” He swung back to face his friend. “Unless people with magic are different, I'm assuming Morgause and Sigan decided to join forces in their present lives and quite recently.”

 

“I'd say that's a fair guess. After all, the assaults didn't start until some weeks ago.” It was Merlin's turn to grin. “Besides, I doubt either of their egos could stand the competition.”

 

“Humph! You have a good point,” Arthur agreed, checking his watch. “Come on. We've only forty-five minutes now and you're still in your pyjamas. And we've got to swing by Cyncoed Road. I take it you can't enchant The Citadel by remote control?”

 

“Sorry. I'm not a miracle worker.” Merlin shook his head, but he headed to the bathroom.

 

“Merlin, you're fifteen-hundred years old. You're a walking, bloody miracle!” He gave Merlin a friendly push to hurry him along and made for his own room to freshen up.

 

*****

 

Arthur stared intently at the glass frontage of the hospital in Oban as if his concentration could enable him to see through its walls. This was his second visit to this hospital, though this time as a visitor and not a patient. He'd spoken on the phone with Drew again, but was still pretty much in the dark about the extent of Gwen's injuries. Drew would only tell him that the doctors wished Gwen to remain a patient for at least twenty-four hours and if she showed no further signs of distress, they would discharge her.

 

He knew Merlin had exchanged a couple of calls with Freya and Fiona. They were both unhurt, though badly shaken. Arthur was very happy that his friend's partner was safe, though he couldn't help feeling a little irritated that Merlin wouldn't pass on any information about Gwen. He was pretty sure he'd heard her name mentioned during one of Merlin and Freya's conversations but Merlin would only say that Gwen wasn't badly hurt and that the doctors only wanted her to stay in for observation, which was completely normal when a person had suffered a head trauma.

 

He frowned subconsciously and the muscles in his shoulders stiffened. Didn't anyone realise that being ignorant was a great deal more stressful than having all the information? Yes! He knew they were only trying to spare his feelings till there was something definite to tell, so he shouldn't be feeling tetchy. But he loved Gwen with all his heart, in both his life times. He couldn't imagine a world without her and, though she was safe now, she had been in great danger. The thought scared him witless.

 

He drove round the car park before reversing his car smoothly into a narrow space, despite his agitation. He was getting quite expert at parking at hospitals at opposite ends of the country. Twice in less than twenty-four hours! That must be a record even for him.

 

But as he went to get out of the car, Merlin placed a hand on his arm. “Arthur, you do know that getting knocked on the head can make people act out of character?”

 

It seemed that he wasn't to be kept in the dark any longer. He halted in mid-exit, speaking tersely over his shoulder. “Oh? And is Gwen acting strangely? Did Freya tell you? Because Drew was pretty vague when it came to describing her symptoms.”

 

“She did mention something about it...”

 

Arthur stared long and hard at his friend. “I wondered why you've been walking on eggshells since the phone call. Yet I know Gwen isn't seriously ill, or scarred... or suffering from amnesia as I'm sure someone would have had the decency to tell me if it was anything terrible like that... so it has to be something else.” He almost leapt out of the car. “I'd best go and find out for myself.”

 

Merlin said nothing but hurried to catch up with Arthur who was marching ahead. “So you're coming to watch the fireworks?” Arthur inquired, his voice needle sharp. “I take it you expect fireworks because whatever is wrong has to be something I'm not going to like.”

 

Again Merlin detained Arthur, moving to stand in front of him. “Arthur, just remember, all might not be quite as it seems.”

 

“Riddles, Merlin?” Arthur's mobile lips thinned. “Or is it another funny feeling? I remember you used to get those quite a lot in Camelot days. Maybe you should remember that I'm not totally oblivious this time.” His finger waved under Merlin's chin then he stepped around his sorcerer and went to find his girlfriend.

 

Only that title might no longer apply, as he was soon to discover. Lightning did strike twice!

 

*****

 

Finding Gwen was easy as the doctors had installed her in one of their empty treatment rooms on the ground floor while, in the corridor, his friends were grouped in a huddle. Arthur recognised all but one tall, lean man who did resemble his erstwhile first knight of Camelot. Part of his brain registered that this must be Leonard Cameron, a man he'd had dealings with by phone and email, but he was too intent on reaching Gwen to indulge in politeness.

 

“Is she in there?” he asked as he strode forwards, heading for the double doors. Clearly, however, Drew was just as determined to halt his progress.

 

“She was, but they've taken her for another scan,” Drew said, but added quickly when he saw stark fear in Arthur's gaze, “The doctors just want to be thorough.”

 

“But you told me she'd been diagnosed with concussion... What's happened?” He stared directly into Drew's eyes before glancing at Freya and Fiona, troubled and questioning. “Tell me! Has she had a brain haemorrhage or something? I know sometimes these things don't show up until later.” And he backed away, his stare roaming up and down the corridors searching for Gwen. Where was she?

 

Merlin caught him by the shoulders, while Freya said quickly, “No, Arthur. Nothing as serious as that... but Gwen isn't quite herself.”

 

Arthur turned to Freya, his brow furrowed, his fair skin paler still. “What do you mean? Will someone please give me a straight answer?”

 

“Arthur, there are some discrepancies in Gwen's short term memory,” Fiona explained, the elderly woman's tone touched by both care and sympathy.

 

Arthur looked at each of his friends as if he didn't quite understand, while Merlin tightened his grip around his shoulders. “She's forgotten me?”

 

“Not exactly.” Freya decided to clarify, though it broke her heart to do so. She'd grown very fond of both Gwen and Arthur in the short time she'd known them. “She knows who you are, but she doesn't remember her feelings for you... that you're a couple.”

 

“I don't understand. She said that?”

 

There was a silence filled with tension as Drew and the women exchanged glances, until Merlin caught Drew's eye and nodded. It was better Arthur knew before Gwen came back.

 

“Arthur, there's something I have to tell you.” Drew began slowly, almost stumbling over the words. “But you have to believe, I didn't mean for this to happen... and I certainly didn't try anything...”

 

Arthur's groan was very much quieter than the shout he'd given in Camelot's council chamber when he'd caught his betrothed kissing Lancelot, yet there was as much torment in his voice and Merlin could feel Arthur's body shaking as he held tight to support his friend.

 

“You and Gwen?” Arthur whispered, shocked... broken.

 

“Arthur!” the lady in question's voice sounded from behind them as she was wheeled in a chair back to the room she'd been given. The group turned as one. “This is a surprise,” she said as she came closer, her voice filled only with friendship. “But you really didn't have to come all this way. I'm fine and Drew is here for me. He saved me, Arthur, as I knew he would. Just as he rescued me all those years ago. It was kind of you to come, but you shouldn't have left your father's bedside. I'm well... really. The doctor will tell you.”

 

With his heart breaking, Arthur forced a smile. For Gwen's sake he would put on a brave front, but he couldn't resist taking her hand as she passed him. “That's good. I'm glad you're feeling well.” He almost choked on his words. He tried to keep hold of her hand and follow at her side into the room, but she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing him. She stretched out her hand to Drew and with an apologetic shrug to Arthur, her dark haired knight took a gentle hold of her hand.

 

“Ms Armour! Gwen!” The cry came as a medical technician exited the elevator, before hurrying down the corridor, clasping a rucksack in her hands. “You left this behind, and since you made such a fuss when we mentioned you couldn't hold onto it while you were having a scan, I thought it might be important.”

 

Gwen's eyes lit up. “It is! Important, I mean. Thank you so much for bringing it to me.” And with less than her usual politeness, Gwen grabbed the black bag. Immediately it was back in her grasp, she said wearily, “Could I please go back to bed now. I'm very tired.”

 

Arthur edged closer. He smiled, while his gaze softened as it rested on Gwen's drained features. “I guess getting hit on the head and being almost drowned will do that to a person.” He couldn't resist bending down and kissing her cheek lightly. “Sleep well, Gwen.” Then he stood aside as the orderly pushed the wheelchair into the room. “You should go with her, Drew. I'm sure she'd like that.”

 

Yet just before the door swung shut behind the trio, Gwen turned to look at Arthur and in her eyes was a look of confusion and longing. Merlin caught it, if Arthur did not, for he had lowered his gaze to stare at the floor, unable to bear seeing his happiness disappearing behind a closed door.

 

“You took that really well,” Merlin said quietly to his friend.

 

Arthur's glance came up at once. “What did you expect, Merlin? That I would challenge Drew to a duel? This is the twenty-first century and Gwen's entitled to make her own choices.” Though his words were understanding, his tone was bereft. “And our relationship was never official. Not this time... I just assumed.” He gave Merlin a sad smile and walked away. He needed to be on his own because right now he couldn't cope with the idea that Gwen might be lost to him forever.

 

Watching Arthur's lonely walk to the exit and out into the sunshine, Merlin reviewed what had happened. Was it possible that Gwen was suffering from some sort of limited amnesia? She knew exactly who she and everyone was. She remembered what had happened on the island and, from what Freya had told him, their reason for being there. The only thing she'd forgotten was her love for Arthur, yet Merlin had seen the uncertainty in that last look she'd bestowed on him. Could something else be at work here?

 

He moved between Freya and Fiona, keeping his voice low as he asked, “What's in that bag Gwen is so determined to keep hold of?”

 

Freya replied, though she still stared at the door, somewhat perplexed. “The amulets we took from the quarry on Torsay. Which reminds me, there's still one last pool we didn't get to search.”

 

“And I'm not sure we'll ever be able to do that,” Fiona said, shaking her head, all her natural exuberance gone and looking, for once, like an old lady. “Judging from what happened to Gwen and Drew, that quarry was probably overwhelmed by the sea. It sits on the most western point of the island. If there were enchanted objects in its depths, they've most likely been washed away. Who knows where they are now.”

 

“There's not much we can do about that at the moment... though I suspect we might have to look for them before this is over,” Merlin answered quietly, not yet sure just how much the tall stranger had learned in the last twenty-four hours. “But there is something that troubles me. Fiona, did you manage to disenchant these amulets before the storm?”

 

“No. I'm sorry, but I thought I'd wait until we'd cleared both quarries,” Fiona admitted shakily, the lines around her mouth creasing in self-guilt. “I believed we had time. It was such a lovely evening... I didn't think. Then suddenly the storm came down and we were fighting for our lives. We got separated from Gwen and Drew and when we found them again there was so much else to worry about.”

 

“And you've seen how Gwen is,” Freya added, shielding her aunt from blame. “She holds onto that pack like it was her comfort blanket.”

 

Merlin's eyebrows rose. “I doubt it's that. In fact, I think it might be the source of her troubles and Arthur's woes.”

 

“What do you mean?” Freya asked, taking hold of Merlin's hand. She'd been upset to see how easily and quickly Gwen and Arthur had fallen apart. In fact, so abruptly that it didn't ring true. Nevertheless, she made a vow to stay faithful to Merlin.

 

“We have to take a look at the stuff that's in that bag and we've got to disenchant it... and do it fast.”

 

Fiona's hand rose to wipe a stray tear from her eye. This young couple's pain might be down to her for not doing her job properly. Even if Gwen and Arthur could be reunited, it would still mean disappointment for Drew who seemed to be hoping he might win her affections.

 

“You're thinking about the silver bracelet again? The enchanted one which Lancelot gave to Guinevere?” Freya asked, the glimpse of hope for her friends fading from her eyes. “But, Merlin, we already found that during the first haul. Don't you remember?”

 

“No... not exactly. If you remember, Gwen said it reminded her of the one she'd once had given to her by Lancelot.” Merlin's voice became more animated. “Gwen and the rest of us just assumed it was the one. Apart from Gwen, none of us had actually seen it... or, at least, paid any attention to it. Guinevere must have got rid of it before she was brought in front of Arthur and it was never found again.”

 

“Lancelot saw it,” Freya put in, though she sounded unwilling to dampen his enthusiasm.

 

“Yes, but he was a shade at the time and he doesn't remember that part of his life...”

 

Even Fiona sounded more hopeful as she joined the conversation. “He wouldn't have any of those memories. A shade is an empty shell.”

 

Yet Freya still played the part of devil's advocate. She wanted to believe, but she glanced uncertainly at her aunt. “Wouldn't you and Merlin have known if it was enchanted? And Gwen didn't react at all.”

 

“By the time Gwen picked it out, we'd already wiped all the amulets of their enchantments,” Merlin stated, now more sure of his suspicions. “It wouldn't have had any influence on Gwen. Now we've just got to get hold of that bag.”

 

“Good luck with that, Merlin,” Fiona said, dampening his animation. “Believe me, we've all tried.”

 

“I'll be firm. I'll tell her we need to disenchant the objects right away as Sigan could trace us through them and come back on the attack.” He picked up Freya's hand and planted a sweet kiss in her palm. “Have faith, Freya. True love can triumph over all.”

 

With a last brush of Freya's cheek with his hand, Merlin paced into Gwen's room and what he saw there was not quite what he expected. Though what he thought to find he really had no idea: Gwen locked in Drew's arms perhaps? She had climbed into bed with the covers pulled up to her waist, while Drew sat in a chair close by her side. They were clinging to each other's hands, yet neither was looking at the other. Instead they concentrated on the array of jewellery which was strewn across the bed, Gwen turning an engraved silver bangle in her fingers.

 

Merlin cleared his throat and Drew looked up at once. “Another bracelet,” he said, his voice strained and his eyes darkened with apprehension.

 

“But we already found my one,” Gwen declared instantly. “We all saw it.”

 

“No, Gwen. I remember your exact words.” Merlin narrowed his eyes as he searched his memory. “You said... I think I might have been given something like this. Seeing that first bangle reminded you of what had happened in Camelot when Morgana tricked you into loving Lancelot again. We all assumed we'd found the real thing, but look closely, both of you, please. That one looks identical to me.”

 

Gwen focussed on the object in her hands. Could such an innocent seeming piece of jewellery have once been responsible for causing such strife? “It can't be true,” she whispered in self-denial, yet her fingers trembled so much the gleaming band fell off the edge of the bed and rolled across the floor to rest in the far corner of the room.

 

Merlin quickly followed its path and bent to retrieve it. The minute the metal touched his skin, he felt the power of its spell. He held the bracelet up so Gwen and Drew could see it, but kept his distance. “Remember, Fiona hasn't removed the charms from this pile of magical amulets. In fact, this bangle is doubly enchanted.”

 

“You can tell that for sure?” Drew asked despondently, beginning to realise that a future with Gwen was probably just a dream.

 

“I can...” Merlin closed his eyes in concentration, sensing his way along the strands of magic. “The first spell is a very old one. The other is more recent, as with all the other artefacts.”

 

“But, Merlin, how did the bracelet that I cast off in Camelot's cell find its way to a flooded quarry in Scotland?” It appeared that Gwen was still unwilling to relinquish her feelings for Drew. Merlin sighed. Perhaps she really had fallen for Drew in this modern age?

 

“I have no idea. Perhaps only Sigan and Morgause know the answer to that question. But we can find out about that later. These magical weapons need purifying now.” Merlin didn't believe he'd exaggerated by calling them thus as they could and had been used as ammunition against them. Against Albion!

 

“Merlin?” Again Gwen's troubled eyes strayed to Drew. “What about Drew?”

 

Why did she feel so torn? Drew had saved her life. She did care for him... she truly did, but she couldn't rid her mind of Arthur's wounded gaze when she'd rejected him. Yet Arthur had walked away. If his love was strong, shouldn't he have fought for her? Gwen's intrinsic honesty compelled her to admit that in this life Arthur had been unsure of her feelings for him. He'd been afraid that her love was only an echo from their past and he'd reined in his own emotions to give her time to make up her mind. He'd put her happiness before his own. His noble heart had prompted him to leave.

 

Although Merlin stayed on the far side of the room, he spoke with wise authority directly to the Once and Future Queen, who he'd counselled during her reign long ago. He prayed she'd listen to him now. “You've nothing to fear, Gwen. If your feelings for Drew are real, then disenchanting this piece of silver won't change your mind. But leaving them as they are could be dangerous for all of us. Sigan could use them to find us and reactivate his spells.”

 

“And, Gwen, though I care about you more than you know, I don't want your love if it's only due to an enchantment,” Drew said very low yet resolute, letting go of her hand and sitting back in his chair. “Please, Merlin. Do what you have to do.”

 

“Gwen?” Merlin asked and when she nodded sadly, he lifted his hands to shoulder height, the bangle still held in his grasp. **“Afeorsian ceargealdot! Asceadan bas earmbeag!”**

 

The gold and silver objects almost de-materialised. They shimmered, mirroring the glow in Merlin's eyes before everything fell still and silent. Then, painfully, heartbreakingly Gwen put her head in her hands and began to sob.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be busy over the next month, but hopefully, I'll find time to post. It's great to see the numbers of hits going up, but would still love to hear from you. Thanks again!


	28. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur drowns his sorrows while Merlin and co. search for him to tell him life might not be so bad as it seems.
> 
> Telepathic conversation is shown in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I've managed to post on schedule, but it was a near run thing. I had a fall yesterday and though I haven't broken any bones, I've a number of bruises and my back is aching.
> 
> Glad to see readers are still checking out this story. Please enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Twenty-eight

 

Lost

 

Merlin wasted no time in following Arthur outside, but instead of finding his friend nursing his bruised feelings in a quiet corner, or even inside his car, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. His car remained where he'd parked it, but empty.

 

Stalking round the carpark, Merlin called to his friend telepathically. _“Arthur, come on! Where are you?”_ When his search of the main grounds proved futile, he started walking towards the back of the hospital to the skips and loading bays. _“Don't sulk. Stop being such a wimp. It's like I told you, it's not as bad as you think. Gwen needs you!”_ In frustration, Merlin lifted his head and called out. “Arthur, mate, answer me!”

 

But wherever Arthur was hiding, he was out of sight and earshot, even telepathically. Merlin returned to the main entrance, cursing his friend to hell and back for his disappearing act, yet he had a lot of sympathy for the young Penderel. His life hadn't been an easy one recently. Since discovering he was King Arthur reborn and meeting up with his immortal servant, he'd become the target of two powerful sorcerers, his father had been struck down by a critical illness and his sister had been kidnapped.

 

Though he might have jumped to conclusions too quickly, Merlin understood why he'd been so upset at the thought of losing Gwen. From the moment Drew had returned, Arthur had been waiting in trepidation for this particular shoe to fall.

 

“Where is he?” Freya asked anxiously, coming to stand by Merlin's side.

 

“I haven't a clue.” Merlin concentrated on using his far-seeing eye, but even that did little good. Oban in the summertime was a magnet for tourists and finding one person, albeit quite a noticeable person, was a little like playing a game of hunt the thimble. “But his car's still parked over there, so he can't have gone too far.”

 

“Then we should start looking for him,” a male voice came from behind. “Gwen's asking to see him.”

 

Merlin wasn't totally surprised when he looked over his shoulder to see Drew coming through the exit, followed by Leonard. “Who's looking after Gwen?”

 

“Fiona.” Drew stretched the tired muscles in his neck and shoulders. The past twenty-four hours had been a roller coaster ride both physically and emotionally. “She says she'll sit with Gwen... and she's probably the best person to explain what happened, apart from yourself, Merlin.”

 

“We have to find Arthur,” Merlin stated, letting his head fall forward and closing his eyes. He switched to mind talking again. _“Fiona. It's Merlin.”_

 

A muffled yet sweet chuckle came back at him. _“Of course it is. I'll wait with Gwen. The poor girl is exhausted and feeling pretty shaken. I called the doctor and they've given her a sedative. Hopefully she'll sleep and you'll have found Arthur by the time she wakes up.”_ The mind link went very still for a few seconds as Merlin imagined Fiona stroking Gwen's hand. _“She really wants to see him... to explain. She believes that their love story is repeating itself and that she'll lose him again.”_

 

“ _That's not going to happen,”_ Merlin promised. _“Tell Gwen he's run off somewhere to nurse his sorrows, but we'll find him and bring him back to her. Even if I have to, I'll beat some sense into his thick... over sensitive skull. She should try not to worry.”_

 

“ _I'll pass on your message, but she'll fret no matter what I say,”_ Fiona replied in despair. “ _Try to be quick.”_

 

“ _I promise, though the town's crowded with visitors which might slow us down. Let's hope the sedative takes effect... or perhaps you could do something to help her sleep.”_

 

A picture of Fiona smiling faintly filled Merlin's consciousness. _“You read my mind, Merlin. I'll do all I can.”_

 

“ _Thank you. You're a good friend. We'll be back as soon as we find Arthur.”_

 

His attention swung back to the group waiting for him and he said aloud. “OK. I think we should split into two pairs so we can cover more ground. Do we have mobiles so we can keep in touch? Obviously, I have mine, but you might have lost yours in that storm.”

 

“I kept mine close,” Leon answered, taking his mobile from his inner pocket. “But I don't have your number. Can you add it to my list?” he asked, handing his phone over. “To tell the truth, I'm not sure what to call you. Is it Rhys... or Merlin?”

 

Merlin's gaze locked with the newest member of their band, searching Leonard's expression for any clues that he'd remembered his past life. Did he know, or had he just overheard? He felt like kicking himself. In their state of shock, every one of them had forgotten to call him Rhys. He decided to play safe. “Actually, it's Rhys Wilson. Merlin is just a nickname,” he said with an embarrassed laugh and a shrug. “You know, Arthur and Merlin from the Arthurian Legends. I'm sorry, we haven't been formally introduced, but you must be Leonard Cameron?” He offered to shake hands and was happy when Leon accepted, albeit after a quizzical pause.

 

“OK. Rhys it is. I guess we're not on close enough terms for nicknames, but I'm willing to help you find Arthur, since it seems I incriminated an innocent man.”

 

“I'm glad you realise that. Thanks for volunteering and you won't regret helping us out.” Merlin gave Leonard a genuine smile, then hurriedly returned to the business at hand. “Freya, you go with Drew and Leonard can come with me. Now, does anyone have any idea where the idiot might have gone?” He directed his question at Drew, as they had been friends since boyhood.

 

Drew didn't need time to think. “Probably to drown his sorrows.”

 

“Really?” Merlin countered. As a prince and a king, Arthur had always been abstemious, only enjoying the odd glass of wine or tankard of mead. Even his visits to the tavern had been made for comradeship and to strengthen the bond between himself and his people. It certainly wasn't to get drunk. In this day and age, he did have the reputation of a playboy, but there had been few reports of over indulgence in alcohol or drugs. “I never saw Arthur as being a heavy drinker.”

 

“Not now. But he went through a rebellious streak when he was a teenager,” Drew explained, grimacing at the memory. “He decided he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps and join Camelot Industries. Got this idea into his head that he'd rather be a farmer. Of course, Benedict didn't understand. To tell the truth, neither did I. I mean, I can't see Arthur working on the land, can you? Anyway, things got pretty acrimonious between them and Arthur ran wild for a time until Ygraine mediated a truce. Benedict agreed that Arthur should have a gap year and he went off to work on some conservation project in South America and spent some time building an orphanage in Africa. When he came back he'd learned just how lucky he is, and he knuckled under, went to uni and worked hard. He's been working hard ever since, though he still finds time to fund-raise for his favourite charities.”

 

“Yet you think losing Gwen might have turned him to drink again?” Freya asked, somewhat doubtfully.

 

“I don't mean as a life choice... but we hurt him, badly. Arthur tends to hide his feelings and charge off on his own when he's upset.”

 

“I agree with Drew,” Merlin said, his arm sliding round Freya's waist and giving her a comforting squeeze. “At least the pubs are a place to start, and we can always search the streets as we go along.”

 

“OK. But I know Oban and it has a lot of pubs and hotels,” Freya said, getting on-board with the plan. “We should probably stick to the ones in the main part of the town first. Drew and I will take the ones on the left side of the main road and work down towards the shore. You and Leonard take the right and don't forget the side streets.”

 

“Freya's got a point,” Leonard joined the conversation again. “I've spent quite a lot of time in Oban, too. We've got a big job ahead of us. Let's hope he was thirsty and he's gone into one of the nearer bars.”

 

Promising to keep each other informed of their progress the two unlikely pairs split apart and began their search, each couple having a telepathic speaker as well as a mobile phone. Yet as they approached the busier streets of the town, filled with rich foreign tourists, backpackers and locals about their daily work, they began to appreciate that it might be some time before they found Arthur.

 

*****

 

Their quarry, however, hadn't immediately succumbed to the welcome oblivion of the demon drink. Once Arthur had escaped the hospital confines, he'd sprinted along the main road into town, then slowed down as he zigzagged through some narrow back streets until he found himself at the harbour. Arthur had watched a ferry leaving for Mull and had even been tempted to buy a ticket, trying to get as far away as possible from the picture of Gwen and Drew together, almost sending himself into exile this time around.

 

Yet, there was no denying that danger threatened his family and friends; people he cared about who were relying on him to keep them safe. He wouldn't abandon them, but that didn't mean he couldn't drink himself mindless for the rest of the day.

 

As the ferry pulled away into deeper water, manoeuvring between the pincers of land which formed the sheltered cove and out into the Minches, he began walking with purpose towards the town centre. He crossed the pier where street vendors sold their wares: fresh fish caught that day laid out on their stalls and juicy scallops and prawns in large woven baskets. Normally, Arthur's mouth would be watering, but today the thought of food curdled his stomach and he hurried past, heading along the promenade which bordered the wide bay.

 

Arthur left the waterside where the mournful sound of gulls echoed his melancholy mood. He moved up into the town, twisting and turning to avoid the crowds which thronged the centre, bypassing the glitzy and tartan-hung tourist bars and hotels situated on the main thoroughfare. He sought somewhere a little less commercialized, a place where the locals might go to drink. His search took him to the north end of Oban where he finally decided that all the drinking spots were geared to catch the tourist trade, so he chose an Irish bar just off the main road.

 

Taking the stairs down to the basement, he found himself in a dimly lit cavernous room which, thankfully, wasn't overfull. It was the kind of uninspiring place he needed. He sighed heavily as he walked up to the bar to order himself a pint of the local ale and a whisky chaser, then made his way to an empty table and dropped into a chair. With a toss of his head, he slugged back the whisky, which he had to admit wasn't his usual drink of choice. Still, if he wanted to go on a bender, then this was probably the quickest way to oblivion. He shuddered as the fiery liquid slid over his throat and burned its way into his stomach. Quickly, he took a gulp from his pint glass and let the cooling beer sooth his digestive track. His eyes strayed to the array of bottles behind the bar. There were an awful lot of different whiskies. Perhaps he should try another one. In fact, sampling a few might be the fastest way to find the insensibility he so desired.

 

A nagging thought found its way into his tortured mind. Gwen wouldn't approve... but Gwen was the very person he was trying to forget. With an effort that almost broke his heart, he pushed her image aside and ordered another drink.

 

*****

 

Almost two hours later and Merlin was beginning to realise there were many more public houses in Oban than there had any right to be, and he and Leonard were only doing half of the town. Though neither man referred to the true subject on their minds, they had worked well together, slipping into the comradeship of yesteryear. Leonard was keen to right the wrong he'd done Arthur and, in Merlin's eyes, that meant he had all the attributes of Sir Leon. Yet even Leonard was growing more frustrated and anxious at their lack of success in finding Arthur.

 

“Perhaps Freya and Drew are having more luck than us,” Leonard remarked as they pushed their way up to the counter in another busy pub, while the customers sang along to a rousing rendition of Flower of Scotland by a folk singer up on a small stage. “Rhys, I tell you, I'm not sure how much more soda water I can consume.” The two men had decided that each of them would order a drink in alternate pubs while the other searched the premises.

 

“I know what you mean,” Merlin shouted over the noise, feeling slightly waterlogged himself. “But I'm not sure Freya and Drew have found him either. They would have called us.” Merlin actually knew from the frequent telepathic updates he'd received from Freya that Arthur was still lost. Where was the dollop-head hiding?

 

A drunken punter wrapped his arm around Rhy's neck and slurred, in a fairly friendly manner, “Come on, pal. Sing along. Don't you know the words? Every good Scotsman knows this song.”

 

Rhys thought it unwise to mention he was probably Welsh... well according to today's boundaries... though he considered himself a native of Albion. He smiled and shrugged, dragging the words from the recesses of his mind and managing to bawl out a couple of lines of the chorus, but in a voice reminiscent of a cat that had been stood on. “But I'm tone deaf,” he bawled into his new friend's ear and, thankfully, the drunk accepted his excuse and stumbled away, still singing at the top of his voice.

 

Merlin left Leonard at the bar and decided to search this establishment using his mind's eye, which would be quicker than the ordinary manner and a very short time later, he touched the taller man on the shoulder and gestured with his head for them to leave. They extricated themselves from the loud but merry clientèle with some difficulty and almost fell outside.

 

“How many more places are left?” Leonard asked, looking somewhat hot and flustered.

 

“Well, we seem to be nearing the far end of town, so maybe not too many. Though, according to Murphy's Law, we'll probably find Arthur in the very last bar and, hopefully, he'll listen to reason,” Merlin grunted with a twisted grin. He just wasn't sure how sober his friend would be when they reached him, if Drew was correct and he'd taken to pickling his thick head in alcohol.

 

*****

 

While his friends were looking for him, Arthur sat, unconcerned, in a quiet corner of the room getting steadily drunk. He'd discovered that the friendly bloke behind the bar was a bit of a boffin when it came to single malt whiskies and had recommended quite a few, even being so good as to actually bring them over to his table. If the barman thought that the fair haired guy was quaffing too much, as long as he wasn't causing trouble, he was welcome to stay.

 

Arthur let the Bunnahabhain malt slip gently over his throat and stared at the empty glass. Now this was one he actually liked, or perhaps he could no longer distinguish between the brands, though it was more likely he'd drunk enough to numb his taste buds. He picked up his half empty beer glass, but replaced it without drinking. He certainly couldn't face another pint, though he might sample another of the last malt. He looked around for his friendly waiter, but he wasn't in sight. Instead, Arthur stood, rather shakily, and made his way over to the bar. This would definitely be his last, he decided as he staggered into a guy who was sitting on a bar stool. Unfortunately, the customer was about to take his first sip when Arthur's arm hit his elbow, causing both beer and man to slip sideways, the rich amber liquid spilling down the gentleman's t-shirt and jeans. 

 

“SSS...orry, m...mate,” Arthur slurred, swaying slightly.

 

The angry man turned on him. “Fucking watch where yer goin',” he growled, giving Arthur a push backwards. “Look what ye've done!” He gestured to his wet clothes.

 

Arthur fought to keep his balance as he started trying to wipe down his victim's front with his bare hands, but the man shoved him away, so he quickly changed tack. “Let me get you another pint,” he offered, forcing a smile. “An' I can pay to get your clothes ll... laundered. Un... less you want new.” He started pulling out his wallet.

 

“Wait a minute. I know ye',” The man stabbed his index finger directly into Arthur's chest. “Ye're that rich guy... Penderel.” He forced his face closer to Arthur. “The ane from Camelot Industries and that fucking fracking plant. Ye're tae blame for what happened on Torsay. Starting earthquakes and things.”

 

“Andy, leave off.” The barman appeared at the red-faced man's shouldered and laid a warning hand on his arm. “I don't want any trouble. He's drunk. Let him buy you a drink and some new clothes and forget about it... eh?”

 

“Oh, aye! He's a rich git, so it makes it OK. Well, no fer me.” Like brushing a fly off his back, Andy rid himself of the barman's restraining hand and immediately swung a punch which connected with Arthur's chin, sending him crashing to the floor. “Him and his family are tae blame for destroying our islands and I'm gonna mak him pay and no in cash.” He kicked at the body lying on the floor, but even drunk, Arthur was quick enough to roll out of the way, so the thug's boot hit his shoulder instead of his face.

 

From somewhere deep within, Arthur's fighting spirit surged through his body, forcing him to clamber to his feet. Though he might have been inebriated, his martial arts training and his many hours spent at the gym kicked in. He lurched sideways and raised his guard, managing to avert the next punch. His opponent might be strong, yet he was slow. Arthur ducked and stepped under a swinging blow and delivered one of his own. With his arm straight, the flat of his hand hit Andy in the nose and the local pugilist felt like he'd walked into a door. His head snapped back and he keeled over, but a group of customers that had formed behind him caught him and threw him back for more.

 

Knowing he couldn't last long in his current state, Arthur allowed all the hurt and disappointment that filled him to morph into rage. He fought on, using his instincts from a bygone age when he'd been a champion warrior, only this time he applied modern techniques. It was a short and bloody contest and by the time the police arrived to break up the fight both combatants were bloodied, though Andy appeared to have come off the worst.

 

When his arm was seized and very professionally doubled up behind his back, Arthur's anger subsided and he looked with horror at his adversary's bruised face, while feeling blood running into his right eye. His head began to ache, but whether from the drink he'd consumed or the blows he'd received he wasn't quite sure. Probably a mixture of both.

 

From a distance he heard the constable ask his name and he answered as clearly as possible and wasn't surprised to feel his hands cuffed behind his back, or the officer asking him to accompany them to the station. Soon after, the policeman was bundling him, along with his fellow brawler, towards the stairs and the exit.

 

Only, he was shocked when on the stairs he came face-to-face with Merlin. The warlock quickly took in Arthur's battered appearance and that of the stranger behind him, both being escorted from the public house by the police. There'd been a feeling of dread in his mind since he'd registered that a police car and van were parked outside on the street.

 

“Arthur, what have you done?”

 

Almost too ashamed to look into his friend's face, Arthur, nevertheless, exchanged a fleeting glance with Merlin. “I'm afraid I've been a bit of a fool.” It would be wrong to say that Arthur was entirely sober, though the recent happenings had gone a long way to bringing him to his senses.

 

Deciding there was some public relations work to be done, Merlin started talking conciliatory to the police. “I'm Rhys Wilson and I work for Mr Penderel here. I'm afraid he's had some bad news recently... in fact, in double doses and he might have acted in a manner which is completely out of character...”

 

“Mr Wilson, before you might say something inappropriate, I should tell you that your friend will be taken to the station to sleep off his intoxication. I shouldn't really say this, but if you come there tomorrow morning, I'm sure he'll be let off with just a caution,” the older police sergeant advised quietly. “Andy Thomson is a well-known rabble-rouser and there are quite a lot of people in that pub who are happy to see the bully get his comeuppance. They're willing to speak up for your friend. The manager is also prepared to give evidence that Mr Penderel apologised for bumping into Thomson and offered to pay him reparation for any damage, yet Thomson struck the first blow and your friend only defended himself. Mind you, he's clearly able to handle himself and Andy didn't have things all his own way as he normally does. Now, if you'll take my advice, just step aside and let us do our work.”

 

“Rhys, just do as he says,” Arthur instructed, clearly embarrassed, his face gradually turning all shades of black and blue. “I'll be fine.”

 

“OK.” Merlin gave in, not entirely sure he shouldn't be calling in the family solicitor, yet perhaps that would only draw attention to Arthur's unwise altercation. “I'll be there at the station tomorrow morning.” If events didn't go as planned, waiting one night wouldn't change Arthur's plight, though Merlin did send him a telepathic message. _“Stay strong, Arthur. The situation back at the hospital isn't all you believe. Gwen wants to talk to you.”_

 

Arthur's head shot up at that, and he stared at Merlin. The flesh of his right cheek was swollen leaving his eye a mere slit, but no amount of bruising could dim the hope that lit up his expression. However, Merlin saw little more as the COO of Camelot Industries was bundled ignominiously into the back of the police van. As the police drove off, Leonard came to stand by Rhys's side.

 

“I wouldn't worry. The police here are fairly reasonable and I'm sure the sergeant speaks the truth.”

 

“But, Leonard, if word of this gets out, the media will have a field day,” Merlin said, shaking his head, his eyes troubled. “He's still under the shadow of the allegations from your local council.”

 

“True, but that won't be for long. If you help me get back to Bearsden, I'll clear his name immediately. I'm not sure what you can do about Ms Grun, unless Fiona can make her see the truth, too, though I'm not sure that will work. There's something about Hilda Grun that I don't like.”

 

“I agree. Don't worry, Fiona will be going with you and she'll deal with Grunhilda.”

 

“Who's Grunhilda?” Leonard asked, looking perplexed again. Since meeting the girls in Bearsden he felt like he'd fallen down a rabbit hole and discovered a fantasy world.

 

So Leonard still didn't remember his past. Someday soon, Arthur and he would have to have a long talk with Mr Cameron. For now, Merlin smiled reassuringly. “Oh, did I say that? I think she was a pixie I read about in some old book. The name just seemed appropriate.”

 

“I can understand that, though I was more inclined to think... witch!”

 

Merlin couldn't refrain from chuckling and for a second, Leonard joined in his laughter, before saying. “Shouldn't we contact Freya and Drew to let them know we've found Arthur? And the quicker we get back to the hospital the sooner I can return home and correct my allegation against Arthur.”

 

“Actually, Leonard, that might not be so easy. Aren't the authorities going to be surprised that you mistook one man for another?”

 

“Fiona said I'd been hypnotised.”

 

“Well... that might work...” The two men started walking back down the street as Merlin fished his mobile from his pocket. “I suppose hypnotism is a recognised therapy these days but, for the sake of your own credibility, I'd be more inclined to go with a clandestine meeting in the dark. Say you had no reason to doubt the man when he told you he was Arthur Penderel, until you met the real one. Then you realised you'd been duped. After all, that's sticking pretty close to the truth... just omitting a few implausible details. Oh, and it might not be a good idea to reveal the true identity of the person who bribed you. At the moment, we have no proof. Talk to Fiona. She'll keep you right.”

 

“I understand.” Leonard nodded his head, though it was quite obvious he was still way out of his depth. Thankfully, though, he was willing to trust his new conspirators. “You don't want this Cornwallis, or whoever he is, to know we're onto him.”

 

Merlin halted and put a hand on Leonard's arm. “I know this is all very confusing and totally unbelievable, but one day you will know the truth. Thank you for helping us... and, if it makes you feel better, we really are the good guys.”

 

“I think I realised that when the other side tried to destroy an island,” Leonard said with just the shadow of a grin.

 

“That would give you a hint,” Merlin replied as he speed dialled Freya. She answered at once. “Freya, we've found Arthur.”

 

“He's with you?”

 

“Well, not exactly, but I've seen him and we do know where he is. He's safe for now, but it's a long story and I'll explain when we meet up with the others back at the hospital.”

 

“Right! We'll see you there. Oh, and Merlin...” There was a slight hesitation in Freya's voice, but she finished in a breathless rush. “I do love you.”

 

A wave of happiness engulfed Merlin. “And I you, Freya. I always have.”

 

*****

 

Arthur didn't enjoy his night spent in the cells; it was a sobering experience in more ways than one. He awoke with a headache, a raging thirst and the determination to continue the fight against the forces of darkness which threatened his family. Of course, he had to get out of here first, and he had no idea what charges he might be facing.

 

And he had to meet with Gwen and Drew, which was a much more daunting prospect, but Merlin had said she wanted to speak to him. Gwen would be kind as she broke up with him... she didn't have a malicious bone in her body and she'd never intended to break his heart. He made up his mind to wish them happiness in their life together and stand aside. If there was one bright spark in his misery, it was assuming that Gwen would probably return to The Caribbean with Drew. It was one thing trying to be noble, but quite another to be a constant witness to their blossoming relationship.

 

The sound of heavy doors being unlocked shook Arthur from his tortured thoughts. He lifted his head high and squared his shoulders as the door to his cell opened and the policeman in charge told him to vacate the cell. This was the first step in a much bleaker life to the one he'd been dreaming of and though he took it almost like a condemned man, he still had people who were under his care and he wouldn't abandon them. Arthur faced the future with all the courage of The Once and Future King.

 

*****

 

A short time later, Arthur ruminated that, though he might be unlucky in love, fortune hadn't completely deserted him as he was set free with a caution and a stern lecture on sobriety. He walked slowly towards the reception area of the police station and spotted Merlin with Gwen waiting for him. What was she doing here? He hadn't even expected her to be out of the hospital. He hung back and watched as Gwen frequently glanced at the glass doors in front of him. She was the first to spot him, and, to his amazement, she smiled tenuously.

 

What was it they said about removing a plaster? Get it over quickly! Fixing an answering smile on his face, he pushed through the double doors. He was totally unprepared for Gwen launching herself into his arms and, though he had to admit he loved the feel of her soft curves against his body, he no longer had the right to that enjoyment. Although it hurt, he moved a little way out of her embrace, though not enough to give offence.

 

“Oh, Arthur.” She shook her head anxiously as she reached up to touch his bruised face. “It must hurt terribly.”

 

“Don't feel sorry for me, Gwen. I've only got myself to blame.” Gently, he removed her hand from his cheek, saying with forced bravado, “Good morning to both of you and thanks for coming. I'm just sorry you had to pick me up here.” He raised his eyebrows as he glanced around, his lips twisting self-consciously. “I acted like a total prat. Rhys, you have permission to call me a cabbage head or whatever derogatory term you have in mind.”

 

Merlin returned his smile. “I think you've learned your lesson.”

 

“Well I won't be getting legless in a hurry again. Believe me, the desk sergeant is an expert at reading the riot act.”

 

“Actually, that wasn't what I had in mind,” Merlin said. “Running off before finding out the complete story was what I was meaning.”

 

A frown creased Arthur's brows, but he didn't intend having a personal conversation in the precincts of the station. “OK. You can explain that to me later, but I'd rather get out of here, before they change their minds and charge me with ABH. Not to mention I'd like to go somewhere I can freshen up,” he stated, sniffing at his clothes and grimacing. He led the way outside where he took a large breath of free, fresh air. He looked up and down the street before asking. “Isn't Drew with you?”

 

“No. We both thought it best if I came to see you alone,” Gwen answered shyly, but before she could say anymore, Arthur interrupted her.

 

“Are you well? Shouldn't you still be in bed?”

 

“They discharged me late last night...”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Arthur said, narrowing his stare at his diminutive PA.

 

“Only because she bugged them so much,” Merlin explained, chuckling at the memory of a determined and angry Gwen squaring up to the medical professionals. “And as Fiona had already found us a flat to stay in overnight -- that woman has so many contacts -- the doctors agreed to let Gwen go, but you're right, she's supposed to be taking it easy.”

 

“She shouldn't be traipsing all over the place at this time in the morning. Why did you bring her here?” Arthur turned his annoyance on Merlin.

 

“Have you tried stopping Gwen when she's made up her mind to do something?” Merlin squinted at Arthur who gave a slight shrug in acknowledgement.

 

“Hey! I'm right here. Will you two stop bickering over me,” Gwen said in her best school teacher voice. “Arthur, I insisted on coming. I needed to speak to you...”

 

“Why, Gwen?” Arthur's stricken blue gaze held her brown eyes for a moment then he turned gently aside. “I think I got the picture yesterday... You and Drew love each other and I won't stand in your way. There was no formal engagement between us and I just want you to be happy...”

 

That was as far as he got before Gwen yanked him to face her, threw her arms around his neck and locked her lips with his. Arthur froze for a few seconds before his instinct took over and he surrendered to his lover's embrace. His arms closed tight around her, lifting her off the ground as he returned her kiss, his tongue asking and being granted permission to tangle with hers. But a moment later, he cast his arms wide and lifted his head.

 

“Please, Gwen. Don't do that. Not if you don't mean it.” Arthur's brain, still sluggish from the alcohol he'd imbibed the day before, tried to assimilate what had just happened, but all he got for his efforts was a pounding headache.

 

“But I do mean it, you... you dollop-head!”

 

Arthur searched her expression. It wasn't like Gwen to be so ambiguous. In fact, Gwen was the most honest person he knew, so what was she up to? Was this a farewell kiss? Her fingers smoothed through his hair and entangled in the fine strands at the back of his neck, while she smiled up into his face.

 

“I care for you, Arthur.” And to prove it, she stood on tiptoe to caress his lips again.

 

There was the sound of someone clearing his throat behind them and Merlin suggested quietly. “You know, it might be better if you had this conversation in a more private place.” The space in front of the police HQ was getting busier as the day shift personnel showed up for work and the others left. Merlin turned his gaze contentedly up at the pale blue sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the temperature was mild even at this early hour. “It's a lovely morning for a walk... and the harbour is down that way.”

 

Without letting go of Gwen, Arthur answered. “I know where the harbour is. I took a walking tour of Oban yesterday before I ended up in that bar.”

 

“I think I should explain about yesterday,” Gwen said, remorse marring her bright gaze. She took a pace backwards, but her hand still clung to Arthur's. “Shall we?”

 

“If you want to,” Arthur replied, still not certain what to think... and afraid to believe too soon what Gwen's kisses seemed to suggest. To be rejected a second time would be too much to bear, if Gwen had only kissed him out of pity or friendship. Besides, he couldn't rid himself of the guilty belief that perhaps Drew deserved Gwen in this life, since Lancelot had sacrificed so much back in their days in Camelot.

 

“Would you two stop dancing around each other and take off. Arthur, just listen to what Gwen has to say,” Merlin instructed, nailing his friend with a pointed glare. “I'll see you both back at the apartment. Just don't go tiring Gwen out. She really does need to rest.”

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, but please don't be shy. I'd love to hear what you think.


	29. My Heart Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One problem is solved yet another has to be faced. Will Merlin, Arthur and their friends be up to the task?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me till late in the weekend to post, but I've had a busy time. Next weekend is Christmas so I might not manage to post on time. However, I will try to post by Mondy 26th.
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read.

Chapter Twenty-nine

 

My Heart Forever

 

The pier was much quieter at the early morning hour, though the fishmongers were already setting up their stalls, hoping for another busy day. The summer months were the time when they made the money which would tide them over the winter months when tourists were less plentiful and the weather often too stormy for fishing boats to put out to sea.

 

One or two of the sellers lifted their heads to watch the progress of the good looking couple who wandered past, the man's golden hair in stark contrast to the dark brown curls of the woman. Neither man nor woman paid the slightest attention to the people around them, their gazes focusing only on each other.

 

Due to the hour, the sun was just creeping above the hills in the east, though the lack of clouds in a vast blue sky promised another warm day. Arthur and Gwen walked hand-in-hand to the end of the quay, their shadows faint on the ground and stood gazing down into the turquoise water.

 

“It's not very often you see such blue waters up in these parts.” He started the conversation with an inconsequential remark, though he smiled softly into her eyes.

 

She smiled back, grateful for the break from the intensity of their emotions. “Perhaps global warming has reached Scotland, at last.”

 

A surprised laugh broke from his mouth. “Oh, Gwen, don't say that out loud. I'll probably be blamed for that as well.”

 

“Why? You're not the only company drilling or fracking for oil and gas. People should remember that Camelot is at the forefront of developing renewable energy, and a lot of that is due to you.” Even now Gwen was defending his reputation.

 

“That's the problem. The public would rather listen to bad information than good,” Arthur said, shaking his head sadly. “But I'm hoping that once we get the wave turbines up and running around the coast and we're not so reliant on oil, they'll perhaps look on us more kindly.”

 

“I'm sure that will happen, Arthur.” She turned to stare up into his discoloured face. “Though that's not what we came here to talk about.” She couldn't resist touching his swollen black eye and grazed cheek with tender fingers. “I'm sorry. I can't help but feel responsible for your bruises.”

 

“You're not! I was the one who chose to run away and drink myself into a stupor, then I topped off my stupidity by allowing myself to be baited into a fight. I deserved everything I got.”

 

“You only ran because you thought I'd chosen Drew over you... but that wasn't so.” Gwen held his gaze steadily, her eyes shining with candour. “It was the bracelet again. The enchanted one.”

 

A crease formed between Arthur's brows. “But didn't we already find that bracelet?”

 

“No! We only thought we did. Merlin found the real one at the hospital. According to him these amulets often look alike. It was in the bag I'd carried all the way from Torsay. He sensed it was imbued with a very ancient spell and the moment he disenchanted it, I recognised the truth.” She moved a step closer to Arthur, and let her hands drift to his chest. “Arthur, I have loved you from the beginning...”

 

“Now I know that's not true. You thought I was a bully and an arrogant prat... which happened to be right.”

 

“That was Prince Arthur and Guinevere. I'm talking about me... Gwen and our lives today. I fell in love with you in that café when I spilled my coffee over you... and you were so kind... so polite... so handsome.” Her brown eyes twinkled as her hands moved to his shoulders, as if she never wanted to let him go. “I know we got distracted by our studies and not wanting to let our families down and we made that silly pact to be just good friends.”

 

“But you were attracted to Drew when I introduced you?” Arthur asked, probing the source of his pain like a nagging toothache.

 

“A little.” She gave a tiny shrug. “He was so attentive and because you knew him well, I trusted him. Besides, I wasn't sure where I stood with you. You were sending out so many mixed messages, Arthur Penderel.”

 

“Only because I didn't want you remembering our past life and feeling obliged to fall for me.”

 

Gwen tutted. “Merlin's right about you. You are a cabbage head. Arthur, I had no idea we'd been reincarnated when I met you in that café and I'm sure you didn't either.”

 

“No. I didn't. But I did fall for you then, too, and I'm only a crazy person because I let you get away.” Arthur's arms had slipped around Gwen's waist. “Gwen, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you. So, if you have any doubts, tell me now. I don't think I could survive setting you free again.”

 

“I have no doubts,” Gwen replied, moving till her body was touching his. “Drew is my friend, and since I know he was Lancelot, I'll always care for him, but it was only an enchantment that confused me into thinking I loved him. My heart... my whole heart is yours, long ago, now and forever.”

 

“And I have never loved another,” he repeated his vow of yesteryear, holding her gaze with his own. They stayed that way for a lingering moment, till Arthur tightened his arms around her. “Gwen Armour, would you marry me? Please?”

 

“Yes! Oh, yes.” Her bright smile outshone the sun. “I've wanted to be your wife for such a long time and I was beginning to think you'd never ask.”

 

“Then perhaps I should make up for lost time and tell you that I don't believe in long engagements.”

 

“Neither do I!” Gwen looked up at him coyly.

 

He lifted her feet off the ground and swung her around, his head thrown back as his joyous laughter reverberated across the bay. How quickly his fortunes had changed. Yesterday he'd been plunged into despair, believing he'd lost Gwen. Now, he was sure they were destined to be together always. In any lifetime they would find each other.

 

“What would you say to a honeymoon in New York?” he asked, unable to stop grinning. “We're all supposed to be going to Uncle Tristan's Gallery Opening and I'm sure we could sneak away afterwards.” Then Arthur's happiness dimmed somewhat. “Of course, with father being ill, that might not happen... but I want to marry you just as soon as we can arrange it... no matter what.” Again Arthur looked stricken. “And once again I'm proving just how much of an arrogant prat I am. “You deserve a proper wedding, with a gorgeous dress and bridesmaids and all the trimmings. I'm sorry for rushing you. It's your choice. I just want to make you happy, Gwen.”

 

“You make me happy by just being yourself. You know I don't like a lot of fuss, but I would like both of our families to be at our wedding. I'm very good at arranging things in double quick time though. It's a skill I've developed by having a very demanding boss.”

 

Arthur squinted at her through his one good eye. “I'm not that bad... am I?”

 

There was a second or two of silence as Gwen considered her answer, before saying playfully, “You do have room for improvement but, don't worry, I've a lifetime to work on the problem and I do enjoy a challenge.”

 

“Then I'll make sure to challenge you.” Arthur beamed at her, his eyes twinkling cheekily. But he was done with talking and used his mouth, lips and tongue for another form of persuasion and Gwen was happy to oblige.

 

Those walkers enjoying the summer morning also enjoyed the sight of a young couple, clearly in love and locked in each other's arms, completely oblivious to everyone and everything around them.

 

*****

 

The friends spent another day and night in Oban to give Gwen a chance to rest. Once the couple had sorted out their future plans, they headed back to the flat where Arthur insisted that Gwen go back to bed. At first, she'd objected, but when Merlin pointed out that Arthur was looking almost dead on his feet and he should accompany Gwen, she decided that going to bed might have serious advantages. However, she soon realized that Arthur's injuries were troubling him more than he'd led her to believe, and she happily postponed the thought of any extra curricular activities when she noticed how exhausted he really was. Instead, she held him gently while he drifted off to sleep and soon joined him in slumber, her eyes closing in contentment.

 

The day of respite also gave Freya and Fiona a chance to return home for the afternoon, Freya to pack for her trip to Cardiff and Fiona to fetch something which she was quite mysterious about but she would need to tackle Ms Grun of Bearsden's Town Council.

 

Leonard had chosen to return immediately to set about retracting his statement, so Drew had driven him home in the hired car, which left Merlin to watch over the pair of walking wounded. He would liked to have accompanied Freya, but she had Fiona with her and he really didn't relish the idea of Arthur and Gwen being left alone when there were two powerful sorcerers at loose in the world, particularly since they were both so vulnerable. Besides, Freya had promised him she and her aunt would be back by evening.

 

Merlin was left with time on his hands as the sleeping beauties caught up on their rest, though, surprisingly, Gwen was the first to wake in the middle of the afternoon. She wandered slowly into the lounge to find Merlin sitting in the large bay window, his tablet in hand, but gazing out at the spectacular view of the bay and the Isle of Kerrera.

 

“I see this morning's promise of good weather didn't disappoint,” she said, walking over to a chair opposite Merlin and sitting in the sun. “It's a beautiful view. I didn't appreciate it last night when I came here and I was too distracted this morning thinking about Arthur.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“Still asleep. He said he hardly got any sleep last night in jail, and he's still pretty sore. I gave him some painkillers and, combined with exhaustion, I think they've knocked him out.”

 

“He didn't sleep the night before either. He was too busy worrying if you were alive or dead on Torsay.” Merlin leant over and took hold of her hands, which were crushing her terry-towelling robe. “You were all very lucky, Gwen. I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to any of you. I just didn't expect that Sigan would do such a terrible thing, though, given his history, I should have suspected something.”

 

“You can't blame yourself, Merlin.” She turned her hands and interlinked his fingers with her own. “No one could have guessed, and you had to rescue Anna, especially if Morgause was involved. I remember what Morgana did when she kidnapped Guinevere... and the way she used those mandrake roots. I'm assuming it was Morgause that taught her how. Merlin, she took over my mind; I was her puppet. She turned me against everyone I loved.” Tears sparkled on Gwen's lashes. “I know I'm not Guinevere, but I can still remember her pain... as if it were some distant nightmare. Did you find those ugly roots with Anna?”

 

“No. But there were signs that they'd been used. Though Anna seems normal, I'm afraid for her,” Merlin admitted, his normal optimism draining away. “I've asked Wayne to keep a close watch on Anna, but I couldn't tell him why exactly. Ygraine knows the truth and Matthew, too. I'm hoping he has enough magic to counteract Morgause's brainwashing, but I doubt it.”

 

“As Mordred he was powerful.” Gwen couldn't repress a shudder. She removed her hands from Merlin's and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I'm sorry, Merlin. I know everyone deserves a second chance, but I can't seem to get past the fact that he killed Arthur.”

 

“Yet you trust Anna?”

 

That prompted a small ironic laugh from Gwen. “I know. It doesn't make sense, does it? Perhaps because I've been friends with Anna for a long time now, and I know her circumstances are completely different from before. She loves her parents. She even loves Arthur, though you wouldn't suspect it sometimes, they bicker so much.”

 

Merlin nodded sagely, a glimpse of his true age showing in his eyes. “I think we have to give people the benefit of the doubt in this life, purely because circumstances change. That doesn't mean we should drop our guard though. In Anna's case, it's more likely she's being used and that she hasn't turned to the dark side.”

 

“Will you be able to save her, Merlin, as you did me?” Gwen edged closer to the edge of her chair, her eagerness to help her friend written clearly on her face.

 

“That's my hope... with Ygraine.”

 

“Ygraine has magic?”

 

“Not exactly, but she is under the care of the White Goddess...”

 

“Who cleansed Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod?” Arthur asked as he came into the room, looking barely awake.

 

“Yes. Which is why the sooner we get home to Cardiff the better, before Anna can hurt anyone,” Merlin answered, viewing his friend intently. “Are you sure you should be out of bed? You don't look too good.”

 

“Don't fuss. According to the police surgeon, it's only a black eye and some bruising. Gwen's hurt more than I am and she's up.” Arthur pointed out, looking concerned. “I woke up and got lonely. Anyway, I have to phone home: find out how my Dad and Mum are.”

 

“I took the liberty of calling your mother last night...” Merlin said, but Arthur cut in.

 

“You didn't tell her I'd been arrested?”

 

Merlin smirked. “No. I thought I'd leave that up to you to explain... and I think you'd better, in case it makes the news.” He watched Arthur wince and it wasn't just in pain. “I told her Gwen had concussion and you were with her. Your dad was stable last night and resting, and, so far, Anna hasn't done anything untoward.”

 

Arthur came and sat on the arm of Gwen's chair, his arm going around her shoulder. “Perhaps we should have left for home today, but I know Gwen has to rest.” He suddenly noticed the quiet of the apartment. “Where is everybody?”

 

“Drew took the car and dropped Freya and Fiona home to pick up some stuff they wanted, before carrying onto Bearsden with Leonard,” Merlin said, closing down his tablet. “He wanted to change his statement as soon as possible, but he's going to meet up with Fiona tomorrow and together they're going to tackle Hilda Grun. I think he'd like to give Ms Grun the benefit of the doubt that she was fooled as well. I warned him that probably wasn't so and, to tell the truth, he was inclined to believe me. I think we've found another friend.”

 

“He's remembered?” Arthur looked shocked.

 

“I didn't say that, and no one's actually mentioned the word magic to him, but he can't help but realise that something very weird is happening here. The thing is he still wants to help.”

 

“Good!” Arthur couldn't stifle a yawn and he moved from his perch next to Gwen to the couch, where he propped his feet on the coffee table. His eyes closed momentarily before he yawned again. “Maybe I'll have another nap.” His stomach had other ideas and gave a loud grumble, which caused both Gwen and Merlin to grin. He sat up a little straighter. “But I'm actually quite hungry. Do we have any food in this place?”

 

Merlin stood up, making for the kitchen. “If you're thinking about your stomach, I guess that means you're on the mend.” He turned in the doorway. “But it'll only be a sandwich. We haven't exactly had time to shop.”

 

“No worries! That'll do fine... just don't scrimp on the filling. Maybe make one for Gwen, too? She's bound to be hungry.”

 

“Yes, master!” Merlin replied sarcastically.

 

He'd only stepped out of the room when Arthur called. “Merlin!”

 

Gritting his teeth, the warlock stuck his head around the door. Would it be unfair to turn an injured man into a toad? “Yes, Sire?” He emphasised the title.

 

“Don't be so snippy,” Arthur said, grinning. “I just thought you'd like to know that I asked Gwen to marry me... and she said yes!”

 

Merlin uttered a whoop and bounded back into the room. He hugged Gwen tight and kissed her cheek. For a moment, he stared at his best friend, before Arthur stood and laughing said, “OK. You can hug me, too. Just don't make a habit of it!”

 

The food was forgotten as Merlin congratulated his friends, kissing Gwen again and wrapping an arm round Arthur... though carefully, till Arthur's stomach groaned once more.

 

“Right, sandwiches.” Merlin left, mumbling to himself. Albion might still be in trouble but, for now, all was right with the world. “This is great! This is destiny!”

 

*****

 

Night fell deep and starless, and a light grey mist curled like a sinuous serpent around the slopes of Glastonbury Tor, as two figures converged from different directions to a predestined spot. Both were dressed in dark enveloping coats, as if to shield their identities. They met away from the main pathways and took little interest in the countryside, but drawn to a place where magic still clung to the edges of the earth. Neither greeted each other with pleasantries in the normal manner. Instead, the woman drew herself up to chastise the man she'd come to meet.

 

“You fool!” Eloise's cold, haughty eyes regarded Mark Cornwallis from beneath her hood as if he were a worm that had crawled from under a rock. “We'd agreed to synchronise our attacks, but you went ahead and attacked Torsay on your own. You let yourself be goaded into acting too soon.”

 

“What did you expect me to do?” Mark replied angrily, his inner-self bridling at this rebuke. He was Cornelius Sigan, one of the most powerful sorcerers to ever live. While this woman might be a High Priestess of the Ancient Religion, she was not his controller. “They'd succeeded in purifying the waters and were about to prove that Camelot's fracking plant wasn't responsible for disturbing the flooded quarries. I needed to take bold action, and to destroy these interfering mortals.”

 

“But you didn't. They survived.” Eloise countered. “And what proof do Arthur and his friends have? Some magical artefacts they fished from the water, which no doubt have been disenchanted by now. They'd be laughed all the way to ruination if they announced that. The only thing they can say is that they've fixed the problem, but then that's tantamount to admitting they were to blame in the first place. I think the best they can do is hope that the association with their operations will fade in time.”

 

“They do have the scientific element. None of the chemicals found in the quarries leaked from the plant...” Mark said less assuredly, while the elegant mask of Eloise slipped, revealing the harder face of the sorceress Morgause.

 

“You used chemicals?” she asked cuttingly.

 

“Yes. I had chemicals which would be used during the fracking process dispersed into the waters. I thought that would put it beyond doubt that it came from Camelot's operation.”

 

“You fool!” Momentarily, their irises blazed gold and black respectively as Morgause snapped at her fellow sorcerer. “And you didn't think they would seek to disprove the point?”

 

“I took a calculated risk. Ordinary people don't pay much attention to dry scientific details. They're more inclined to believe the evidence of their own eyes. The turbulent waters and the hurricane are receiving the most media coverage. No one is interested in looking for the truth.”

 

“The Penderels are, and they have sufficient standing in the financial and corporate worlds to be taken seriously.”

 

“But Benedict inadvertently aided our endeavour by having a stroke -- which should make it easier for your vessel to kill him -- and Arthur's reputation is being shredded as we speak. I've made sure of that. The tabloid newspapers like nothing better than a meaty scandal, and Arthur's given them a number of those over the years. It won't be long before he's charged with illegal practises.”

 

“Well, see that your familiars are sticking to the script.” Morgause relented a little. “I'll accept that your hand was forced in the case of the islands, but I don't want any more surprises.”

 

“You're not in charge, Morgause.” Sigan's eyes were dark with indignation. “We're equal partners in this... remember.”

 

Morgause, who had turned to leave, swung back to face Cornwallis. “Perhaps you should take your own advice and remember to inform me of your plans before you carry them out in future. Also keep in mind I am a High Priestess, chosen by the Triple Goddesses to do their will and to revive magic in this world. No matter how powerful you believe yourself to be, you are a mere sorcerer.” With those final imperious words she stalked off.

 

Left behind, Sigan fumed. He was not a mere anything, as Morgause would soon find out. He would be the one to rule Albion. He scurried off to fulfil the next part of his plan and in order to do that he had to summon his lackey Will Edwards. Arthur Penderel had clearly managed to find people who had a modicum of magic, and Mark intended to discover who Penderel had recently befriended to assist him. Once he'd obtained the information, he intended to eliminate the problem. Whoever these magic users were, they would rue the day when they matched themselves against Cornelius Sigan!

 

*****

 

Will had been surprised but also pleased when he'd received a call from Mark Cornwallis. Was he finally going to be offered a proper job with Sigan Fuels? He couldn't deny he'd been paid well for the little he'd done so far, but he was hardly proud of the fact that he'd lied to the authorities and been little more than a paid informant. Yet given the chosen meeting place, an insignificant spot on the edge of Cardiff Bay, Will very much doubted that whatever Cornwallis wanted was legitimate.

 

Though twilight had fallen and there was a slight breeze from the water, the air was stiflingly warm and he found himself sweating underneath his lightweight jacket. Yesterday's storm had done little to freshen the atmosphere, and it certainly hadn't reached the proportions of the hurricane which had hit the west coast of Scotland a couple of nights previously.

 

“Mr Edwards! You came at my summons.”

 

Almost jumping at the sound of the mellifluous voice, Will searched around him, calling into the shadows, “This is where we arranged to meet at this time?” He checked his watch, noticing it showed ten o'clock on the dot.

 

“It is, indeed... but good help is so hard to acquire these days,” Mark Cornwallis said, appearing instantly in front of the young man and shocking Will into silence. Where the hell had Cornwallis come from? It was almost as if he'd materialised out of thin air. 

 

“And I set great store by punctuality... and obedience, of course,” Cornwallis continued, looking Will over from head to toe. “I have an urgent question for you.”

 

Will didn't like the sound of obedience but he felt it unwise to say so. This guy always looked slightly unhinged. Will gulped, forcing the words past his Adam's apple which suddenly seemed too big for his throat. “What is it you want?”

 

“Information.” The slim man said, his eyes never leaving Will's face and Will had the uncomfortable notion that he could read his mind. “And don't lie to me, Mr Edwards. As I told you once before, you don't want to make an enemy of me. Do as I bid, and you'll be rewarded well.”

 

Drawing himself up till he was slightly taller than his companion -- Will refused to call him boss until he'd received a signed contract -- he nodded. “Ask and I'll do my best to answer, but I was just one of the worker ants, so I might not have the information you want.”

 

“Yet you were on the islands in Argyll?”

 

“Yes. I was taking water samples from the quarries on Easdale.” Will shrugged. There was no secret there.

 

“Who else was with you?” Cornwallis was snapping out his questions like the cracking of a whip.

 

“My workmates from the laboratories.”

 

“And who was in charge? Before Penderel got there, I mean?”

 

Will had noticed Cornwallis's eyes turn hard as stone and he hesitated. Rhys was his friend and he didn't want to drop him in the shit, but then The CEO of Sigan Fuels could probably get this information from other sources. Besides, what harm could Cornwallis do to Rhys? It wasn't like he was a member of the Mafia. “Rhys Wilson. He's the geophysicist for Camelot Insdustries, but he's just an ordinary guy. I've known him for years.”

 

“Did Arthur Penderel hire him?”

 

“No! Rhys already worked for Camelot. They only met when 'King Arthur' came to Easdale to find out what was happening.”

 

Cornwallis's brow furrowed and Will had the strange sensation that his brain was being peeled apart like an onion. “King Arthur?”

 

Again Will shrugged, though this time a little guiltily, though why he should feel remorseful for slagging off Arthur Penderel, he had no idea. “It's what I call him 'cause he struts around like he's royalty.” And he did have a grievance against Penderel. Rhys had been his best friend, but he'd scarcely seen hide nor hair of him since Arthur came on the scene. He pushed his regret aside and added, “Mind you, they got real friendly pretty quick. If you saw them, you'd think they'd known each other forever.”

 

Mark Cornwallis wasn't blind to the sliver of envy which coloured Will's words, but he couldn't ignore the tingle he'd experienced running through his body when the younger man had mentioned Rhys Wilson. This geophysicist certainly deserved some scrutiny.

 

“Where is this Rhys now?” Cornwallis asked, though careful to keep his question more casual. He could also sense Will was beginning to feel suspicious. Though he could always probe Will's mind using his magic, he didn't want to resort to such drastic action at present.

 

“How should I know. He hasn't been back to the lab and he hasn't been in touch either. As far as I know, he's still with Penderel.”

 

“Thank you, Will.” Mark decided to relax his superior manner, knowing he'd get more from his mole if he kept him happy. “I've met Penderel Junior and I agree with your take on him. He's an arrogant upstart.” He took an envelope from his trench-coat pocket and handed it to Will. “You've done well. I think you'll be pleased with what's inside. I'll be in touch.”

 

Will fingered the envelope as he watched Cornwallis walk away, his eyes blinking as the man seemed to vanish as suddenly as he'd arrived. He was quickly distracted as he checked out the contents of the thick packet in his hands. Oh boy! There was no denying that being a spy was a lucrative business.

 

He stared hard at the area where he'd last seen Cornwallis. Though the slim, dapper guy appeared mild-mannered there were times when he radiated an almost scary sense of power. Actually, Will wasn't sure who he disliked more... Cornwallis or Penderel? They were probably cut from the same cloth. Stuck-up twats!

 

Shoving the money inside his zip-up, he turned slowly and left the dock area, his shoulders hunched and his hands jammed into his pockets. Regardless of the money, Will felt bad, unable to suppress the knowledge that he hadn't done Rhys any favours.

 

*****

 

Eloise groaned, burying her head into her silken pillows as her phone warbled by her bedside, wakening her from sleep. She raised her head and gazed for long seconds at the clock before answering the call. “Sigan, you better have a good excuse for disturbing me at 3.30 in the morning. I've a rehearsal for a large fashion show later today and I don't appreciate you interrupting my sleep.”

 

“You asked me to keep you up-to-date with my plans, so I thought you might want to know that we have a problem.”

 

“A problem that wouldn't keep till morning?” Eloise asked sneeringly, wondering why she'd ever thought it a good idea to join forces with Cornelius Sigan who had taken possession of Cornwallis's soul.

 

“No! It's rather urgent. Tonight I discovered that Rhys Wilson is a geophysicist working for Camelot Industries. I had my researcher check him out and he found a photograph which I'm sending to you now.” Sigan was silent for a few seconds to allow technology to work. “Perhaps you'll recognise him from your days in Camelot. I know I do.”

 

Impatiently, the woman switched on her bedside lights with a mere wave of her hand, in order to study the picture of a dark haired man with prominent cheekbones and over large ears; an attractive young man though not in the conventional sense. She took a sharp intake of breath. “Merlin! Prince Arthur's inconvenient servant. He's been reincarnated, too.”

 

“Indeed, and he's working for Arthur again. However, he was so much more than a troublesome retainer. You might not have realised but, back in the day, I had a battle royal with the boy, which he won.” Sigan paused for effect. “Merlin has magic.”

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's this week's offering. I do hope it lived up to expectations. Take care everyone and have a very Happy Christmas.


	30. Conflicts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna is summoned by her sister and asked to carry out her assignment. Will she succeed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and you might be looking forward to relaxing with the next chapter of my story.
> 
> I will probably be later in posting next week's chapter but will get to it as soon as I possibly can.

 

Chapter Thirty

 

Conflicts

 

First light found both friends and foes awake and in motion. There was much to be done by all sides. Gwen, Freya, Merlin and Arthur flew home to Cardiff, leaving Fiona and Drew to meet up with Leonard in Bearsden. Drew would bring Fiona to Cardiff when their task was done. However, Arthur was slightly anxious. Neither Drew nor Leonard had magic and Fiona was an elderly lady.

 

“Merlin, I don't mean to knock Fiona. God knows she's been a great help, but is she up to the task of tackling this Ms Grun?” Arthur asked through a wide yawn as he lugged Freya's large suitcase to the pavement outside their Oban apartment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been up with the lark on so many consecutive mornings. When all this was over... if this was ever over... he promised himself to take Gwen somewhere very quiet and warm and spend most of the time relaxing by a pool or in bed. That was a nice thought for the future but, for now, he could only sigh heavily as he watched Drew and Fiona drive away in the hired car, while the taxi which would take them to the airport waited by the kerb.

 

“I wouldn't worry about Fiona if I were you. Did you see the old shepherd's crook she brought back with her?” At Arthur's nod, Merlin continued quietly, not wishing the driver to overhear. “Well, it's not simply a crook. It's been enchanted to resemble a walking stick but, in reality, it's a Sidhe staff. Where she found it I have no idea, but she's had it for years and she assures me she knows how to use it. I doubt Grunhilda stands a chance.”

 

Arthur's eyebrows rose and he smiled a little half-heartedly, as he heaved the suitcase into the boot of the taxi. “Fiona's definitely a resourceful old lady. Remind me never to get on her wrong side.” He winced slightly as his bruised muscles protested at the weight of the bag. “Just what has Freya got in here? And why am I straining myself with this case when you could just lever it with magic?”

 

“I'm glad she's one of us, too,” Merlin agreed as he began to load the few other bags into the taxi. “We're in public, you idiot... and I don't want to deny you getting some exercise. You have to take care of that waistline!”

 

“Fuck you, Rhys. My waistline is just fine. And, apart from the driver, there's no-one about.”

 

“You're very touchy this morning. Not feeling too good?” Merlin enquired as he looked pointedly at the other hotels and apartments which lined the street. “You never know who could be looking out of those windows. The last thing we need is some nosey neighbour phoning the local rag about baggage floating through the air.” His attention changed to Freya and Gwen as they came down the stairs. He smiled at them both, but his words had an anxious edge. “Come on, everyone. Time to go. The quicker we get to the airport the sooner we can get back to Cardiff and put things right.”

 

At Merlin's reminder of the urgency of their problems, they all piled into the taxi to be driven to Oban airstrip where the plane was waiting to fly them home at Arthur's instructions.

 

*****

 

Meanwhile, Eloise Blessed, still elegant and poised despite the early hour, contacted Anna and arranged a meeting, instructing her to come alone and to tell no one where she was bound.

 

Deep in the trees of Raoth Park, Anna waited for her mentor. She'd been thrilled to have received the phone call from Eloise, after all, she'd agreed to take on the promotional piece for Eloise and her modelling agency, but she couldn't start work right away. Her father was seriously ill and she had to be by his side, but she felt certain Eloise would understand her wishing to postpone the work till he was feeling better.

 

The morning was fine with the first rays of sun sparkling through the leafy branches of the trees, but while Anna waited, she couldn't help wondering at the time and place of the meeting. She'd imagined it would have taken place in Eloise's London studio at a more conventional hour.

 

Yet, she had little time to ponder as she saw Eloise in a striking red dress come hurrying through the trees. Somehow, she looked different. There was something about her eyes... a golden glint that Anna hadn't noticed before. She didn't realise that the birds had ceased singing their dawn chorus, or that a cool breeze shivered through the leaves.

 

“Morgana, thank you for coming,” Eloise called, gliding closer with her catwalk stride.

 

Anna shrank back at the name and her eyes glazed over. “You called and I came,” she said in little more than a whisper. “Is there something you want me to do?”

 

By then the fair haired woman was directly before her and though Eloise spoke quietly, she held Anna's gaze with her masterful will. “There is. Do you remember what we talked about in the house on the Ile St Louis? About your Penderel family?”

 

“You told me they didn't wish me well... that they'd destroyed my real parents and my grandmother.” Anna stared straight ahead, her eyes seeming to envisage another time and place. “That they caused the car crash that killed them. Ygraine couldn't have another child, but she saw me and wanted me for her own, so they arranged for my real family to die.” The fact that this story was completely implausible and entirely out of character for Ygraine, who didn't have an envious bone in her body, didn't occur to Anna. “Now it's time for them to pay for their sins. Starting with Benedict. He must die,” she stated the words without emotion, like a well-learned mantra.

 

“Good, Morgana. You've remembered well, and it's the truth. The Pendragon dynasty is rich, powerful and very self-serving. If they knew you'd discovered the truth, you'd be in danger. Which is why you must act first.”

 

“I'm ready to do what you ask.” Anna took no notice of the substitution of the name Pendragon.

 

Eloise came nearer, stepping into Anna's personal space, yet the younger woman kept completely still. “Remember what I said. My true name is Morgause and I'm all that's left of your blood kin. I'm your sister, Morgana. We shared the same mother. I love you and I'll take care of you. You do know that?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then do as I say and take this.” Eloise drew a small clutch bag from behind her back. She quickly unzipped it to show a syringe filled with a sickly yellow liquid. “You must inject the contents of this syringe into Benedict's IV. The potion will kill him and your first act of revenge will be complete. But don't forget that our pact must stay secret. There will be those who seek to prevent you from avenging your true family, so be discreet.”

 

“But won't they know what I've done?” A sliver of fear slipped passed Anna's brainwashing.

 

“Not if you're careful.” Eloise placed a hand on Morgana's shoulder. “Don't be afraid. This elixir is enchanted. No doctor nor pathologist will discover its use.” She didn't mention that another sorcerer would recognise the poison, since she was fairly certain none of the doctors at the hospital had magic. She might have been informed that Rhys Wilson was Merlin and therefore a warlock, but he was still in Scotland. With an encouraging smile, which didn't reach her eyes, Morgause added, “Besides, Benedict's health is already precarious. I doubt anyone will be astonished if he passes.”

 

Anna reached out to take the purse, staring as if beguiled by the contents before zipping it back up. “I will do it.” Her voice was firm but hollow.

 

“Best do it now while your courage is high. Perhaps I can give you a lift to the hospital?” Morgause asked, feeling the need to stay close to the younger woman to ensure she didn't baulk at the last moment.

 

Anna shook her head. “There's no need. My car is parked nearby. I've a reason for visiting the hospital at this early hour while you don't... and it's probably best if we're not seen together. You can trust me.”

 

“Of course, Morgana. I've never doubted you.”

 

“Wish me luck,” Anna said, sounding more like her normal self and saluting goodbye with the little bag.

 

“You won't need luck.” Yet, for all her aplomb, Eloise's gaze followed Anna as she left the cover of the trees, a sharp crease forming between her arched eyebrows. In this current life, she was not completely sure of her erstwhile sister's commitment to her cause. She could only pray to the Triple Goddess that the mandrake root had done its work well.

 

*****

 

The foyer of Cardiff and Vale was practically empty when Anna swept through its doors and walked determinedly towards the elevators. It was too early for the out-patient clinics to have commenced, or for most visitors to attend their relatives, though work still continued round the clock in the busy hospital. A few nurses arrived early for their shifts and in the background there was a constant hum of a polishing machine wielded by a plump cleaner while another dusted the window sills.

 

Anna paid little attention to what went on around her as she entered the lift to make her way to her father's room. She didn't see Wayne McGuire come up the stairs from the lower floor where the mortuary was located, but he most definitely noticed her and was fairly shocked.

Since Arthur and Rhys had asked him to keep a watch on Anna to ensure her safety, he'd been shadowing her both with and without her knowledge, though he had to admit he preferred the former. Last night he'd accompanied both she and her mother home from the hospital and had been invited to stay for dinner. There had been just the three of them and, under the circumstances, he could hardly pursue his romantic intentions towards Anna but he had reason to think his attentions weren't unwelcome. When she'd seen him out, she'd even allowed him to kiss her goodnight... and kissed him back with what he thought was appreciation.

 

He'd been so charged with restless energy by the way she'd responded to him, that he hadn't minded the call on the police radar that a homeless man had been found unconscious down at the docks by a security guard. It appeared he'd been attacked in somewhat suspicious circumstances and Wayne, his reporter's instincts on high alert, had been only too happy to check it out. He'd followed the ambulance to the hospital where the poor man had died of his injuries and, with his natural aptitude for fact finding, he'd been able to discover that the body had clearly been subjected to a terrible trauma. Though there had been no outwards signs of cuts and bruises, almost all the man's bones had been broken.

 

Wayne had been trying to figure out what kind of attack could wreak such devastation on a human body without leaving any noticeable marks and, deciding he should return to the docks to see what he could find, he was about to leave the hospital when he'd been surprised by the sight of Anna. Surely this wasn't a normal time for a visit.

 

Particularly, if he'd remembered correctly, and he recalled almost all his conversations with Anna, she'd mentioned last night how tired she felt and relieved that her father was doing well, so that she'd intended to sleep in today and not visit till afternoon. What was she doing here now at this ungodly hour? Had Benedict Penderel taken a turn for the worse and, if that were so, why was Ygraine not with Anna?

 

He had no logical reason to doubt her, but he felt that something was amiss, especially since he'd seen Anna give a furtive look around before she'd stepped into the elevator car... yet furtive was never a word he would have used in conjunction with Anna. She was one of the most forthright people he knew. Momentarily, he was taken aback and was almost glad he hadn't hailed her... then he remembered Arthur's warning.

 

OK, so it was to keep watch on Anna in case her kidnappers tried again to capture her, but that didn't quite explain the look of worry and unease he'd recognised in Arthur's eyes. Of course the temporary boss of Camelot Industries had a lot of responsibilities right now, but Wayne was a reporter and he was used to reading between the lines. As he'd felt before, there was definitely something going on that he wasn't privy to. It wasn't a feeling he was comfortable with and he decided to discover what was making Arthur... and Rhys, if he were honest, so apprehensive... perhaps even afraid.

 

Putting his investigation into the homeless man's death on hold, Wayne crossed to the lifts and followed Anna up to Benedict Penderel's ward.

 

*****

 

“Good morning, Ms Penderel,” the charge nurse at her station said as Anna made her way to her father's room. “It's a fine morning, but we didn't expect to see you so early. Most visitors come later in the day.”

 

Anna almost ground her teeth at the slight reprimand, though she forced a smile. “It is a lovely day and it was that pesky sun which woke me. Once I was awake, I couldn't help but think of Daddy and how he was doing, so here I am.” Her voice was light while inside her stomach roiled. Ideally, she'd hoped her visit would go unnoticed, though seeing how busy the nurses were, she realised that hope had been rather optimistic. “I hope I haven't broken any rules. I promise to keep my visit short and I'll try to stay out of your way.”

 

“No, no. For you it's fine... and you'll be happy to know Mr Penderel passed a comfortable night. He was awake when I checked on him earlier and seemed quite bright. Go on. See for yourself, but best not to wake him if he's fallen back asleep.”

 

With a final smile, as friendly as she could manage, Anna hurried down the corridor to her father's room. It only took a few seconds, since Benedict was still under strict supervision and close to the medical hub of the ward. For what she had to do, she could have wished his room to be down at the far end of the corridor. Yet there was no use worrying about something she couldn't change. She would just have to carry out her mission quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

 

Anna slipped inside and stood very still with her back to the door, her heart palpitating in her chest. She took a few deep breaths until she calmed somewhat, gazing over at her father. Thank God he was asleep. She wasn't sure she could continue with her assignment if he'd looked at her, or smiled at her... or tried to say her name.

 

What was she doing here? Did she really want to kill her father? The answer came resoundingly back in the negative! Yet, she felt compelled. He'd destroyed her true family on nothing more than a whim of his wife, and they both deserved to pay for their cold-blooded actions. Her revenge was justified! So spoke her mind... though her heart felt uneasy.

 

She hurried over to the bedside to the IV apparatus which dripped life-sustaining liquid directly into her father's veins, eager to have this done and over with. Her fingers shook as she unzipped the little purse and stared mesmerised at the syringe, again wondering about the bleached yellow colour. It looked somehow tainted and she couldn't quite believe Morgause's assurance that the toxin would be undetectable. Yet for all her forebodings, she knew she had to carry out the instructions.

 

Stilling her fingers, she withdrew the tiny hypodermic and pulled back the plunger as far as possible. With a final glance at her father... No! He no longer deserved that title. This was Benedict Penderel, a ruthless man who had killed her true family for his own gain. She had always known he had a fearsome reputation in the business world, but had never dreamed he'd adopt such tactics in his personal life. Now she knew differently... and it hurt.

 

Morgana found herself more determined, her hands steadier as she attempted to insert the needle into the cannula. He would pay for his criminal acts...

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

 

The voice behind her was deep, confused but edged with outrage. Anna turned to see who had entered, but she hardly had the chance to register who had interrupted her revenge as the dark haired man flung himself across the room and knocked the syringe from her hand, grinding his heel into the vial until the liquid leaked harmlessly over the floor.

 

“Who the hell are you... because the Anna I know would never seek to harm her father?” Wayne looked at the pool at his feet, the vaguely glowing viscous fluid. “If I'm not mistaken pumping him with that substance wouldn't have done him any good.”

 

Though Wayne had raised the question of Anna's true identity, he was not prepared for the snarling virago who launched herself at him, fingers like talons, yet he'd honed his survival skills in many a war zone where quick reflexes meant the difference between life and death. He quickly sidestepped and returned the attack, remembering at the last moment to pull his punch. For all that, however, his clenched knuckles landed on Anna's fair chin and she dropped like a stone at his feet, totally unconscious.

 

“Damn!” Wayne shrugged regretfully, regarding the prone woman and then glancing up at the man in the bed, who was now staring at him with sad, troubled eyes. How much of the last exchange was Benedict aware of? “Sorry, sir,” he said, before mumbling under his breath, “What the fuck have I got myself into? Arthur Penderel, you've got a lot of explaining to do.”

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's this week's contribution. Love to hear if you enjoyed it or not.


	31. Spells and Enchantments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems the past keep reoccurring and Arthur, Gwen and Merlin cannot help but be haunted by their memories. Hopefully, they can be guided by the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't kept you all waiting too long. As promised, I'm posting as soon as I could. Thank you for continuing to read.
> 
> As always, telepathic communication is in italics.

Chapter Thirty-one

 

Spells and Enchantments

 

Immediately after landing, and in answer to his mother's request, Arthur led his friends back to the house in Cynoed Road. Though Ygraine had declined to give a lengthy explanation over the jet plane's phone during their flight, it was clear from her tone of voice that something had happened... and that something wasn't exactly pleasant. It was a measure of Arthur's understanding that he'd instinctively known that Anna was involved in whatever had occurred... and he hadn't been at all shocked when, at the end of the phone call, Merlin's voice had uttered a single word inside his head.

 

“ _Morgana?”_

 

“ _Mum wouldn't go in to detail, but I believe she tried to...”_ Yet Arthur couldn't bring himself to form the accusation. _“Anna, attempted... something at the hospital early this morning. Wayne stopped her and they're all now back at The Citadel. Gaius has given Anna a strong sedative to keep her unconscious, because neither he nor Matthew believe themselves strong enough to restrain her if Morgause has revived Morg...”_ He stopped, refusing to use that name either. _“Revived her magic capabilities. Long ago, she was a very powerful sorceress.”_

 

“ _Indeed she was, but I think I had her measure, if only she hadn't managed to remove my magic... or if only I'd had the confidence to realise that my magic was woven into the very fabric of my being and no one, however powerful, could destroy it.”_ Here Merlin paused, looking out at the blue of the sky with its cotton-wool clouds which lay in a thin lair beneath their flight path. _“I wasted time before Camlann seeking to restore my magic, only to learn, if I'd had enough belief_ , _that I'd never lost it. But I discovered that too late to save you...”_

 

Was it possible to hear the sound of a heart breaking telepathically? But Arthur wasn't about to let his friend brood.  _“You did all you could. It was my time and nothing could change my destiny... not even you.”_ Merlin's wide-eyed despondent gaze came back to lock on Arthur's.  _“Merlin, we've touched on this before, though I probably don't know the whole story. Someday, when all this is over, you and I have got to have a long talk. Just keep me safe this time around and I'll forgive you anything.”_

 

A tiny grin lightened Merlin's expression.  _“I guess it's easier this time now that you know the truth. I'm not having to skulk around in the shadows wondering if I'd end up on a pyre.”_

 

“ _I keep telling you, I would have never let that happen. But there were times I wasn't exactly nice to you.”_

 

“ _That's an understatement. You were horrible!”_

 

“ _I know. I know... Arrogant, supercilious... what else did you call me?”_

 

Merlin tried hard not to laugh because he couldn't ignore Arthur's worried frown... even if he had been a little distracted by their wander down memory lane.  _“That's in the past and you're actually a half decent guy now.”_

 

“ _Half decent?”_ This time Arthur couldn't repress a tiny grin.

 

“ _Well... maybe more than half. Look! What do you say that we forget the rest and just concentrate on the present and Anna.”_

 

“What's happened?” Gwen moved to sit across from Arthur and covered his hand with her own. Though she hadn't heard the telepathic exchange between Arthur and Merlin, she'd been watching them closely. “Was that your mother who called?”

 

A sardonic smile curved Arthur's mouth. “You read me too well, Gwen.” He squeezed her fingers gently, showing he wasn't upset. “My mother tells me there was an incident at the hospital concerning Anna. I'm not sure about the details, but it seems my sister might be acting under Morgause's control... either that or she's gone over to the dark side.”

 

“Oh, Arthur. No! I'm sure it's the former. Believe me, I know it can happen.” She took both his hands in hers. “It happened to me... to Guinevere. I had no control over my actions after Morgana had enchanted me with the mandrake roots... I didn't even realise that what I was doing was wrong.” Arthur freed one of his hands to brush a stray tear from Gwen's cheek. She hadn't realised she was weeping. “But you had faith in me, Arthur. You and Merlin saved me. You need to believe in Anna now.”

 

Arthur gave an uncomfortable shrug. “Guinevere wasn't a bad person. Even enchanted there was a part of you... of her which remained pure and it was that part that we were able to reach. You can't say that about Morgana...”

 

“Arthur!” Gwen's voice, keener than normal, interrupted. “You're doing Morgana a disservice. She wasn't always bad. There was a time when she was a good and caring person. She helped us all.”

 

“I'd have to agree with Gwen,” Merlin spoke with understanding and a small amount of remorse. “Morgana had magic in a court where it was outlawed and she'd witnessed all too clearly what happened to people with magic. When she first realised she had a power which she didn't understand, she was terrified.” Here Merlin faltered. For years, after the tragedy of Arthur's death, he'd rethought over and over how he, Gaius... and to some extent Arthur had mismanaged Morgana's budding powers. Not to mention Kilgarrah's dire prophecies that had led him down a well-intentioned but disastrous path. “Arthur, we all got it wrong. I should have helped her outright, instead of tinkering around the edges and Gaius shouldn't have tried to hide her abilities from her. We were her friends... you were her brother. She should have been able to come to us and have faith that we wouldn't betray her to Uther.”

 

Sitting back, Arthur regarded his fiancée and his friend. “Yet was she right to be so afraid? My father loved her... more than anyone, he might have been angered, but I doubt he would have sentenced her to death.”

 

“You forget, Arthur. He threw her in a dungeon for defending sorcerers. She couldn't take the risk of being discovered.” A troubled line appeared between Gwen's eyebrows. Remembering Morgana always left her feeling distinctly uneasy, but honesty compelled her to defend the younger version of her mistress and friend.

 

“He threw me in a cell, too, for disobeying him, but I was never afraid for my life...” For a moment Arthur stumbled over his words. “Except when he was a ghost and he disapproved of how I was ruling his kingdom.”

 

“That's true,” Merlin stated. “I think he might have killed us both then if you hadn't managed to send him back to the spirit world.”

 

There was a deafening silence as all three were drawn, helplessly, into times long past, wondering if they could have done things differently... Could they have averted the disaster that befell Camelot?

 

“But none of you really understood how frightened the ordinary folk were of Uther's rule.” The silence was broken by Freya, who'd been sitting quietly by Merlin. “He was a fine king for his knights and his noble families, but I was a Druid and he would have had me killed, even if I hadn't been cursed. He couldn't open his mind to what he didn't understand. I'm sorry to say it, but many saw him as a tyrant.” She watched as Arthur's shoulders drooped in shame and her face softened. “If anyone was to blame it was Uther... and you're not helping by dragging over the past and thinking of what might have been. What's important is now! Arthur, your father is not Uther, just as Anna is not Morgana. We should concern ourselves with this life.”

 

Arthur's head snapped up, his blue gaze becoming focussed on the job at hand. “Of course, you're right, Freya. Thanks for reminding us.” There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice. “It's just that this incarnation business is very new to Gwen and me and we keep comparing this life to the past... when we shouldn't.” He sent Gwen a tender smile which had nothing to do with the current conversation. “There's no reason for Anna to think badly of my father... not unless Morgause has reminded her that he's Uther.”

 

“Or that she has magic and Morgause is her real family,” Merlin added, his assumption closer to the truth than he imagined. “Could Morgause be related to her this time around?”

 

Again Arthur shrugged. “I've absolutely no idea. My parents were told that Anna's family all died in the car crash... but I've no idea if that's the truth. If they checked the story out, they never told me, but then I was just a kid and the subject never came up later. My mother might know.”

 

“Then that's something we've got to find out. Until then, I think we should try to get some more rest.” Merlin stretched his arms and shoulders, cricking his neck. “You all might have been reincarnated, but this is my one and only life. I've been around for a very long time.” He refused to call himself old in front of Freya. “And I'm not getting enough sleep!”

 

“And if I'm not mistaken, you're going to be very busy in the next few days?” Arthur asked, thinking ahead. “We've got to purify Anna, face Morgause, because I don't think she's going to take too kindly to losing her control over Anna and, after all that, we've to take down Sigan. You do have a plan for all this, Merlin?”

 

“You're the COO of Camelot Industries,” Merlin protested, stifling a yawn. “You think of something...”

 

“Of course I'll help, but you're the one with magic. Have you any ideas on how to defeat these sorcerers?”

 

Merlin just turned into Freya's arms and closed his eyes, mumbling something that might have been... “Sure.”

 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked again, but the only answer he got was a gentle snore.

 

*****

 

Arthur didn't notice the flowers bordering the drive of The Citadel, or the sun dappling the fresh green leaves as they were driven up to the front door. Instead he left his friends climbing out of the limousine and barged into his childhood home, reminiscent of an irate King into his bedchamber, only his call was to another this time.

 

“Mum!” He almost ran into the family room and when he found that empty, he stuck his head around the dining room door, but no one was there either. “Mum?” he called down the passageway to the kitchen, halting when he heard Ygraine speak his name.

 

“Arthur, I'm here.”

 

Turning towards the stairs, his breath hitched in his throat as he caught sight of his mother standing in the light of the stained glass window, her pale face shadowed by the colours of the glass. She seemed more fragile than ever before and his heart ached for her. She'd always been so mentally strong, a constant presence of understanding and calm in his sometimes chaotic world.

 

Arthur took the stairs two at a time till he reached his mother, taking hold of her trembling hands and asking more quietly, “What happened?”

 

With her eyes downcast, she answered frailly. “Anna tried to kill your father... with some kind of toxin.” She raised her eyes and Arthur saw the pain scored deep within them. “She tried to inject it into his IV. I've no idea where she got the poison, but fortunately Wayne stopped her.”

 

“Probably from Morgause.” He swallowed hard. All the way home, he wished he'd misheard his mother on the plane and that there would be some plausible explanation for Anna's actions, other than that she'd been brainwashed by magic, but seeing his mother and listening to her account dashed that hope. “Where is she now?”

 

“In her bedroom. Wayne is watching over her, but she's asleep. Richard -- that's Gaius -- thought it best to keep her sedated.”

 

“I know who he is, Mum,” he said, with just the hint of a smile. “And he was right. We don't know how she'll react when she's awake.” He glanced backwards as he heard the others enter the house and watched as Merlin came to the foot of the stairs while Gwen and Freya waited in the hall. Once again, his mind flashed back to his days in Camelot, only this time for a particular reason and not to mope. “Can you cure Anna, Merlin?”

 

“At the Cauldron of Arianrhod?” Merlin mounted the first few steps. “I believe I can summon the White Goddess... but only love can persuade Anna to enter the waters. She cannot be forced, tricked or beguiled, or she'll be lost to us forever...”

 

At last Ygraine's warm smile returned. “Then I've no doubt we can save Anna's soul, for she is loved... so very much by so many people.”

 

“Good. That's good,” Merlin said, though there was an echo of a 'but' in his voice.

 

“What's wrong?” Arthur asked, almost rolling his eyes. “I know you, Merlin, so don't say nothing. Have you forgotten the spell?”

 

“No!” Merlin's indignation reddened his cheeks... or was it embarrassment. “It's just that I'm not sure exactly where the Cauldron of Arianrhod is in this day and age.”

 

*****

 

The question of the modern location of The Cauldron had to be put on hold for the moment when Matthew Davidson arrived hot on the heels of the party from Scotland and when Wayne stormed out of Anna's bedroom, intent on being told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

 

Faced with an angry and rather desperate erstwhile knight, Arthur left his mother, Gwen and Freya to watch over Anna while he suggested the men retire to the library. He took his stance before the large, ornate fireplace while the others found seats around the room, except for Wayne who planted himself a few feet in front of Arthur.

 

“OK, Wayne, what is it you want to know?” Arthur straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, his steely gaze locked on Wayne. Even with the bruising and swollen eye, he looked formidable.

 

The reporter might have flinched a little, but he held his ground. “You asked me to look out for Anna because you thought she might still be a target of the kidnappers, but that's not exactly true, is it? I know Anna. We might not be an item anymore, but she would never try to kill her father... and that's pretty much what I stopped her doing.”

 

“I thank you for that. As will Anna, when she's more herself, I'm sure,” Arthur said, relaxing slightly as he quickly looked to Merlin, who gave the slightest of nods. “You're right. Anna was abducted, but not for ransom, as you might have suspected. Instead she was brainwashed by some very powerful people who were using her to attack my father... and probably myself.”

 

Wayne's lips pursed, considering, before he said. “Seems a bit extreme. If they're so powerful why not just hire a hit man?”

 

“Because that's not the way they work,” Arthur answered, still wondering if his decision not to remind his friends and compatriots of their past lives was the right one.

 

Merlin stood. “Besides, they didn't want suspicion to fall on them... and they believe they'll hurt the Penderels so much more if one of their own is turned to their side.”

 

Blowing his shiny brown hair back from where it fell over his brow, Wayne said, “Seems you've really pissed off some very bad people.”

 

Arthur grimaced. “You don't know how right you are. Plus they might actually believe that Anna is more closely tied to them than to us.”

 

“Then they don't know Anna very well.” Wayne offered his opinion with a frown.

 

“Is there any actual proof that Anna might be related to these people?” Matthew asked, sitting perched on the edge of a large leather winged chair, looking somewhat ill at ease. He hadn't spent much time here at The Citadel.

 

“We've spoken of this before,” Arthur replied, gesturing between himself and Merlin. “And I can only tell you, not as far as I know, but you found Eloise for us, Matthew, so perhaps you should check it out. I'll ask my mother to give you as much detail as she can.”

 

Matthew gave a sharp nod. “I'll do my best. You can rely on me, Arthur.”

 

Again Arthur managed a small smile. “I never doubted it, Matthew.”

 

A loud knock was heard from the front door, interrupting the conversation and Arthur left to answer it, returning, momentarily, with Dr Richard Grayson in tow.

 

“Good-day, everyone,” the doctor nodded to the surrounding company. “I've come straight from the hospital...”

 

“Has something happened to my father?” Arthur asked, his voice stark with worry.

 

“No, no, my dear boy. Your father is quite stable. Thanks to Mr McGuire's quick actions.” Richard sent Wayne an approving look.

 

“I and my family are deep in his debt,” Arthur conceded, almost bowing towards Wayne. “Won't you sit down, Dr Grayson. Perhaps I could get you some refreshment.”

 

“I'll accept the seat gladly This morning has been quite... unusual... very taxing.” Gaius sat and glanced questioningly between Merlin and Arthur. “However, I need nothing else for the moment. I've come at the insistence of your mother, Arthur, and I believe I asked you to call me Richard.”

 

“Richard.” Arthur nodded. “Did you by any chance find out exactly what my sister tried to inject into my father?”

 

“I'm afraid most of it ended up on the floor, though the charge nurse did manage to mop up a small amount which I hope to examine... perhaps with Rhys's help?”

 

“I'd be happy to,” Merlin agreed, but added quickly, “but maybe at a later date when we're not so hard pressed. I think we should concentrate on helping Anna first.”

 

“Of course, we must.” Richard rose quickly and Merlin was happy to see that his one-time guardian was more supple in the present than he'd been in Camelot days, though he appeared of similar age. “And with that in mind, I should go visit our patient. Your mother asked me to,” he said to Arthur as he headed towards the door. “Perhaps you could show me the way?”

 

“I will. This way if you would?” He gestured for the doctor to proceed him. “Do you plan to keep her unconscious for the foreseeable future?”

 

“Yes. I think it best,” Richard was heard to answer as the pair moved out of view. “At least until we work out what to do.”

 

There was an uneasy silence while the three men left in the library perused the events of the last few days. “How do you de-condition someone whose brain has been manipulated?” Wayne broke the silence, his tone gruff with concern over the woman he knew he could love.

 

“I think Dr Grayson might have a few ideas... and Ygraine will see that Anna has the best of treatment.” Merlin wished that he could explain all to the modern version of Gwaine, but he was also aware that now was still not the time for fantastic and implausible revelations. “Will you entrust her to us? I can't promise with certainty that she'll be the same as she ever was... but I'm told Anna has a strong personality and I've every hope you'll find her unchanged after her ordeal. She might even need your help to come to terms with what's happened to her.”

 

For a moment, Wayne looked long and hard at this new acquaintance. Again, he had the strangest feeling he'd known Rhys for a very long time. Yet how could that be? Their trip to Paris to find Anna had been the only occasion he'd spent in Rhys's company, but he instinctively felt a sense of comradeship. He did trust him.

 

“There's really nothing more I can do for her and I do know you have Anna's best interests at heart,” Wayne admitted, a sense of conviction settling in his stomach. “Right now, I've a job to do. I was investigating a mysterious death when I saw Anna at the hospital. I really should get back to it. Unlike the Penderels, I've a living to make,” he stated, glancing about him at the luxurious room and unable to resist a cynical jibe at the rich and powerful.

 

“And I should get back to the office to start that research on Anna's origins,” Matthew said, standing and following Wayne's lead. “Can I give you a lift anywhere, Wayne?”

 

“Actually, I'll take you up on that offer. I left my car at the hospital, so if it's not too far out of your way?”

 

“No. Not at all,” Matthew replied, happy to be in the company of one of the knights he had wronged when he'd been Sir Mordred.

 

Merlin saw them both off the premises, before walking slowly back into the house to find Arthur waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “Richard says Anna is well enough for now, but he agrees we should keep her asleep until we can find Arianrhod.” Arthur folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to regard the hapless Merlin expectantly. “So now is your chance to tell me just how you managed to lose track of it?”

 

“Hey, don't blame me. The topography of these islands has changed a lot in the past fifteen-hundred years. Have you visited Glastonbury Tor recently? There's not much more than a muddy puddle where the Lake of Avalon was once. And no one's exactly sure where Camelot was located. Some historians actually claim it was in the north of England or Scotland even, so don't start complaining.”

 

“But you've been here all this time, Merlin. You should know!” Arthur's stress levels were making him more cantankerous.

 

Merlin sighed heavily, understanding but not prepared to allow his friend to deploy his ill-temper on himself. “You try living for over a century and see how much you can keep track of...”

 

At once contrite, Arthur answered soothingly, “I'm sorry, Merlin. Like I've said a number of times, I've no idea how you've managed to stay sane over all this time. Come on. We'll get ourselves a coffee. I don't know about you, but I could do with a caffeine boost... then we can tackle some of those ancient history books...”

 

“Books! What's wrong with the Internet?” Merlin remarked with a smirk, heading with Arthur to the kitchen for that much needed refreshment. Even Merlin's magical stamina was wearing thin.

 

It was here Gwen and Freya found them a little later, having left Anna with Ygraine and Gaius to go in search of food. “So this is where you're hiding. I might have known I'd find you in here.” Gwen smiled, moving to stand by Arthur's side at the table. “What are you doing... and can I get you something to eat? Coffee won't keep you going forever.”

 

“Thanks, Gwen,” he replied, gazing forlornly into his empty mug as he realised he was in need of something more substantial than coffee. “I'm sure Mum has food in the fridge. Right now, Merlin's looking for the Cauldron of Arianrhod.” He gestured to the laptop where Merlin's fingers were speeding over the keyboard, googling ancient historical sites.

 

“Oh, here's something interesting,” Merlin announced, sitting back in his chair so the others could see the screen. “I think the Cauldron might be Trefil Quarry. Don't you think it looks familiar?”

 

Both Arthur and Gwen leaned closer to the monitor, both sharing a memory, a memory of pain shot through with loving joy. It was here Guinevere's damaged soul had been purified and love had brought her back to her true self and to her husband... with the help of Merlin and the White Goddess. Could they do the same for Anna?

 

Arthur was the first to speak, clapping Merlin on the back. “You're a wizard! Well I suppose you really are, but that's the place. I'd recognise it anywhere.”

 

“Me too!” Gwen slipped her hand into Arthur's and found her fingers squeezed in reassurance. “Do you think it will work for Anna as it did for me?”

 

“I don't see why not,” Arthur said, feeling more confident than he had since he'd heard about Anna's attack on his father. “Look. It's not that far away, so it shouldn't be difficult to get there. Plus, we've got all the required elements... Merlin to summon the White Goddess... I'm assuming that since magic is still around, she will be too. Aren't Goddesses immortal?”

 

“I'm sure she's still there,” Merlin said, though to tell the truth he didn't know. Magic had all but disappeared from the world. Perhaps The Triple Goddesses had forsaken them.

 

“But Anna has to walk into the water voluntarily, Arthur,” Gwen reminded him a little doubtfully, recalling how Guinevere had resisted his entreaties at first.

 

“Anna will do it for love as did you, Gwen.” Ygraine's soft voice came from behind them. They all turned to see the slight lady standing in the doorway, her eyes glinting with determination. “I've loved Anna since the first moment I set eyes on her... she was so little and so lost. She needed a family to love her and we were taken at once. We chose her and she'll always hold a special place in our hearts. Just get us to Arainrhod and I'll do the rest. I will not let Eloise Blessed or Morgause Le Faye, or whatever name she calls herself, to steal my daughter away.”

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't quite such a long chapter, but I hope it doesn't disappoint.


	32. Sigan's Servants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm reintroducing some characters into this chapter. Some you've already met before and some are new to this story. I'm sure you'll remember them. I do hope you enjoy what I've done in this chapter and the new places I've taken my characters to which happen to be real. I like to introduce reality into a mystical story and I hope it doesn't detract from the magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting on time again. I hope I can keep up this schedule. Once again I'd like to thank readers for staying interested in this tale and for sending me kudos and comments.
> 
> Telepathic speech is in italics and casting spells is in bold.

Chapter Thirty-two

 

Sigan's Servants

 

 

It was often an unfortunate fact of life that the best of plans were often scuppered, and so it was with the expedition to save Anna. Only an hour or two after the group had come to the decision to leave for Trefil in the early evening, giving the main protagonists a much needed rest, Merlin received an unexpected phone call from an old friend. A particular friend, who he'd feared had been irretrievably lost, so he was pleasantly surprised to hear Will's voice.

 

“Rhys, it's Will...”

 

“Will, hello. I am so glad you phoned.” Merlin sat up straighter in the leather armchair, where he'd been dozing after lunch. “I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I've been busy, rushing all over the place, but I have been wondering how you were doing. You were somewhat mysterious last time we spoke. How are you?”

 

There was a moment of hesitation before Will continued. “I'm not sure, Rhys. Do you remember I hinted at a change of job?”

 

Merlin tucked his long legs under the seat, wholly alert. “I do. Is something wrong, Will?”

 

Another pause developed for a second or two. “I don't know... Actually, yes! There is. I think I might have got myself into a bit of trouble.” Merlin could imagine Will pursing his lips. He was a proud young man who wasn't keen on admitting his faults. “Can you meet me, Rhys? I don't like talking about this over the phone.”

 

“I'm not sure, Will. I wasn't joking when I said I'd been busy and my work is still hectic...”

 

“Right. OK.” Will's clipped voice came back, clearly vexed. “I guess this work is for Arthur Penderel...”

 

“It is,” Merlin agreed. “But whether you believe it or not, it's important to a lot of people, maybe even the whole country...”

 

“You don't have to apologise. I understand,” Will interrupted, mentally backing away. “Anyway, I could be just imagining something is wrong... Maybe I didn't see what I thought I did. You'd best stick with Penderel if it's that important...”

 

“Will, it's not a competition.” It was Merlin's turn to cut in. He checked his watch before adding, “Look, you're clearly upset and I do have some spare time this afternoon. Where would you like to meet?”

 

“Can you get to the bike trails in Merthyr Tydfil? The place in the woods where we usually have our sandwiches?”

 

Merlin frowned slightly. “I'm in Cardiff, Will. Can't we meet up somewhere nearer?”

 

“It has to be somewhere private... a place he wouldn't know,” Will said, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. “Please, Rhys.”

 

“Sure. I'll be there,” Merlin answered without further hesitation. Will was more troubled than he'd expected. Oh, God. Was life repeating itself? “You'll have to give me time to get there, though.”

 

“It doesn't matter,” Will agreed. “I'll be waiting... but try to get here as soon as you can.”

 

Merlin ended the call and stood up, stretching his arms above his head, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. At the warlock's move, Arthur stirred, as if he'd been snoozing with one eye open.

 

“What's wrong?” Arthur asked quietly, disentangling himself carefully from Gwen's arms, hoping not to waken her.

 

“Perhaps nothing.” Merlin shrugged.

 

“Come on. I know that look,” Arthur prompted, stepping away from the couch on which his fiancée still slept. “You're worried about something.”

 

Gesturing for Arthur to follow him, Merlin moved towards the bay window on the far side of the room which afforded them a small amount of privacy. “I just got a phone call from Will...”

 

“Will Edwards? Hasn't he left Camelot Industries?”

 

“He sort of hinted he had another post lined up, but I'm not sure he's actually taken it up yet.”

 

“So, what did he want?” Arthur frowned, not sure he wanted a distraction in the form of Rhys's old friend.

 

“He wouldn't tell me over the phone... but I think it's something serious. Will was rattled, and Will doesn't scare easily.”

 

“Is it possible it has anything to do with what we're facing?”

 

“Not with Anna... No! But remember there's Sigan to consider too. The way Will spoke before, it sounded like he might have been offered a job by one of your competitors... Maybe Sigan Fuels?”

 

“And Sigan might be trying to pump Will for information,” Arthur said slowly, a statement rather than a question.

 

“It's a possibility, but I think I should meet him and find out.” Merlin wouldn't look at his friend, though he felt Arthur's gaze boring into him. Arthur's priority was curing Anna. “We agreed we'd leave tonight for Trefil. Lend me a car and I can meet up with Will and be back with plenty of time to spare.”

 

“If Will is working for Sigan, it could be a trap.” Arthur touched Merlin's arm lightly, but it was his strained voice which forced Merlin to turn. “Maybe I should come with you.”

 

“No, Arthur. As in your last life, Will has no liking for you. He'll speak more freely to me if I go alone.” Fleetingly, Merlin smiled reassuringly. “I don't think Will means me any harm, but I'm not entirely sure I can trust he feels the same for you. Besides, shouldn't you be checking up with Drew?”

 

Arthur moved back into the room, stopping behind the sofa and gazing down on Gwen as his hand gently smoothed her curls. “To tell the truth, I'm beginning to be worried about them. We should have heard something... unless Ms Grun has gone to ground.”

 

“She might, but Fiona should have been able to trace her, even if Leonard couldn't.”

 

“You think they might have run into trouble?” Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Merlin, before returning his blue eyes to Gwen. “I know Gwen's chosen me... but she'd be sad if anything happened to Drew... as would I. I don't want to lose Lancelot in this life. Maybe we shouldn't have left them to face Grunhilda, but I do need her retraction.”

 

“I'm pretty certain Fiona is a match for Ms Grun. Even back in Camelot's time she didn't have great powers.”

 

“But could Sigan have gone to help her? He seems to be able to move about the country fairly quickly and easily.”

 

Merlin shrugged again. “I have no idea where Sigan is, which is why you have to contact Drew and I have to go meet Will.” With those final words he walked towards the door.

 

“Merlin, take my car, the silver BMW coupé in the garage... and, if you don't want my company, then take Wayne with you. I'd feel better if you had someone to watch your back.” Arthur fished a set of car keys from a drawer in a side-table and with a deft flick of his wrist launched them towards Merlin, who caught them neatly with just the tiniest assist from magic. “As I recall, you had some adventures with Gwaine back in the day and you worked well together in Paris. I'm sure you have his mobile number.”

 

“I do. I'll see if he's free.” Merlin was on his way out when he had a second thought and stopped in the doorway. “Oh, and if Drew is having difficulty finding Ms Grun, tell them she's a pixie and she might seek the help of the Sidhe. Pixies are servants to the Sidhe and she was working for them last time.”

 

Arthur's mobile eyebrows climbed to meet his hairline. “A pixie? And the Sidhe? According to Camelot superstition, weren't they the imaginary fairy folk?”

 

“They weren't imaginary,” Merlin countered instructively. “Believe me, they were very very real... and very powerful. I know you were pretty out of it on our last journey to Avalon, but I was taking you there so the Sidhe could cure you... if you remember. We just didn't get there on time...” His voice faded away on a sigh which Arthur echoed before replying...

 

“Yes, well... all that is in the past and we've the future to fix this time.” He pulled himself together as Gwen began to stir. “I'll pass on your message, but you'd best be off to meet Will. Keep in touch... and don't be afraid to shout for help, if you need it.”

 

“Right. See you soon, and try not to worry. I'll be fine.” Merlin disappeared just as Gwen woke up and looked around her.

 

“Where's Merlin?” Gwen asked on a smothered yawn.

 

“He got a phone call from Will and he's gone to meet him. He thinks Will might have information which might help us solve our problems with Sigan.” Arthur came around the sofa's back and sat next to Gwen again, placing his arm round her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss.

 

She happily relaxed into his embrace before pulling back an inch or two and asking rather alarmed, “Shouldn't you have gone with him?”

 

“I offered, but he didn't want me to. Apparently, Will is more likely to come clean if I'm not around. I suggested Merlin should ask Wayne to go with him, but when has he ever done as he was told?”

 

Gwen gave him a sympathetic smile. “Poor Arthur. You never could control Merlin...”

 

“True. But what's more disconcerting is knowing that he's very good at manipulating me!” Arthur grinned before bending to kiss his fiancée again and for a few moments all other thoughts flew out of his head.

 

*****

 

On a slightly blustery but sunny day in Scotland, Drew, with Fiona and Leonard, had gone first to Ms Grun's place of work at the council offices but finding her absent, they'd moved on to her home, a slightly dilapidated Victorian edifice on the edges of Bearsden. When they drew a blank there, too, they returned to the council chambers to enquire of her whereabouts from her colleagues, only to find that, though she had a number of acquaintances, she had few actual friends. It seemed hardly anyone had seen her since the morning after the storm on Torsay and she'd even failed to answer a number of work related messages, which they were told was quite unusual, Ms Grun being a very efficient and officious member of the council. By afternoon they'd quite despaired of finding her when Drew received Arthur's phone call.

 

“Hey, Drew, how's it going?” Arthur's voice came quite buoyant over the airwaves, yet Drew sensed an underlying anxiety beneath the cheerful tone. “Have you spoken to Ms Grun?”

 

“No. Actually, that's proving to be more difficult than we expected. We've been to her work place and her home and no one seems to know where she is.” Drew paused for a moment to allow the bad news to sink in. “It's almost like she's disappeared.”

 

“That's probably possible, if she's one of Sigan's attendants.” There was the sound of whispering on Arthur's end of the phone and Drew assumed, correctly, that he was passing on the report. Seconds later he spoke again to Drew. “What about Fiona? Can't she trace her using her... powers.”

 

“Funny you should say that... we're about to return to Grun's house to see if she can find any... unusual signs of where the witch could have gone.” His voice dropped on the word witch. “What does Merlin have to say?”

 

“Actually, Merlin isn't here. He's pursuing another line of enquiry, at the moment.”

 

From Arthur's rather acerbic reply, Drew deduced that his friend wasn't entirely happy with that arrangement either, but Arthur cleared his throat and continued, “However, I do have a message for Fiona from Merlin. Can you...”

 

“Arthur she's here. Perhaps it would be better if you spoke to her.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

There was a rustling sound while Fiona took the phone and walked a few feet away, saying in her slightly sing-song accent, “Hello, Arthur. I take it things are fairly calm in Cardiff at present.”

 

“Sort of,” Arthur answered gruffly. “My mother and Richard are managing to keep a lid on things for now, though I doubt helping Anna will be a walk in the park.”

 

“Then Morgause has managed to turn her?” Fiona's voice was shrill with anxiety.

 

“We're hoping more for the enchantment rather than having Anna go over to the dark side... but she did attempt to attack my father. Thankfully she didn't succeed.”

 

“Oh dear. I'm that sorry, Arthur. I won't keep you, but if Merlin has any advice which would help me find Grunhilda, I'd be grateful.”

 

“He says to tell you she was a pixie in Camelot days and was a servant of the Sidhe. I'm not sure that will help you find her though.”

 

“On the contrary, it's very helpful,” Fiona assured, her tone much more hopeful. “The Sidhe can live on the earth and in the sky, but their power comes from spellbound waters. Their base was The Lake of Avalon, which hardly exists in these times. I'm assuming there must be a similar centre locally and I ought to be able to find it...”

 

“But even if you do find it, I was led to believe they have formidable magic powers. Perhaps more than yourself.”

 

“But I do own a Sidhe staff from which I can draw similar strength and I have the knowledge to use it.” Fiona indulged in a small smile which seemed to transfer through the airwaves. “Besides, Ms Grun is only a pixie and I can handle her well enough, never fear.”

 

Arthur responded with a chuckle. “Be my guest, Fiona, but do remember I need her to recant her accusation against me before you... destroy her.”

 

“Don't worry. I'll make sure you'll have all you need.” There was no doubt in Fiona's voice which Arthur could discern. “Now I must be off to discover where Grunhilda's gone to ground. Take care, my boy. You have your own battles to win.”

 

The call was disengaged with quick goodbyes and wishes for good luck. Arthur smiled tentatively to Gwen before taking her hand and saying, “Come on. Let's go and see how Anna is doing with my mother and Freya to guard her.”

 

*****

 

As Fiona handed the mobile back to Drew, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Drew, dear, we need to take a look at a map of the area. We're looking for a body of water nearby... somewhere which could hold an enchantment.”

 

“Oh, you don't need a map for that,” Leonard intervened, standing close enough to overhear the request. “I've lived in this area all of my life and I think I know where we need to go. It's a place called Kilmardinny Loch. The loch and the woods are a favourite place for the kids hereabouts... sort of magical, you know.” He halted a second as he spoke the word magical. Inside him a vague realisation was stirring, but for the moment he resisted its pull. “A Scottish sculptor has transformed some of the dead trees into fairytale characters. It's an amazing place.” He flushed at his enthusiasm for the area. “Of course, I'm only a beginner when it comes to your inborn powers, Fiona, but I'd bet my next month's wages it's the loch your looking for.”

 

The older lady smiled on the tall man. “Don't be embarrassed by your eagerness, Leonard. Kilmardinny! Already my natural forces are tingling at the name. We must explore at once.”

 

With those excited words, Fiona was off, with a sprightliness that belied her years as Drew and Leon exchanged slightly bemused glances and quickly followed behind.

 

Less than thirty minutes later, the trio of Grunhilda hunters were disembarking from their car and picking their way through the tree-lined pathway to the shores of the lochan, passing weird and wonderful carvings of real and imaginary animals along the way - - an owl here, a fox there; fishes swimming along the sinuous curves of a fallen tree and a large wooden statue of the Gruffalo cut amazingly from a beech log, standing guard by the side of the shore. Perhaps a contemporary version of an ancient dragon. This was a place of magic, indeed, both superficial and authentic; of modern and ancient design.

 

The moment Fiona set foot upon the ground, she felt the magic. “We're here. You're right, Leonard. This is the place. We'll find Grunhilda and the Sidhe here.” Her voice had dropped to an almost inaudible hush as she glanced between the converted Drew and the brooding Leonard. How much should she reveal... yet the time for caution was surely over? “But we must go very carefully. They will not welcome us. These ancient sorcerers were no friends to the Pendragons, nor the Penderels now... nor do they support Merlin.”

 

“The Sidhe are bad?” Drew asked, remembering Uther's adage that all sorcerers were evil, only Drew's experience was different. All those years ago he'd met the Vilia who'd helped and protected him from the Dorocha... and Merlin had only ever sought to safe guard Arthur with his magic.

 

Seconds passed while Fiona considered her answer. “The Sidhe are an ancient race, their magical powers only equalled by that of the dragons. Yet they are a secretive and solitary faerie people. They work only towards their own advancement.”

 

“Then we can't expect them to help us?” Drew asked gloomily because he was sure of the answer.

 

“I'm afraid not. Grunhilda will be under their protection, so we must prepare to fight them... but I'm not without resources.” Fiona had brought her shepherd's crook with her, the one with strange symbols carved along its length, and now, as her eyes blazed darkly golden, the wood shimmered, quivered and the crook resumed its ancient property -- a Sidhe staff.

 

From under the shade of the trees, Fiona stepped closer to the breeze-ruffled water, seeming to grow in stature while her escorts flanked her either side. She raised her arms, brandishing the staff.

 

“Grunhilda!” she called, her clear voice echoing across the wavelets. **“Bebiede be arisan!”** When her call remained unanswered, she cried again. **“Bebiede be arisan, Grunhilda! Bebiede be arisan ealdu!”**

 

A few steps behind her, Leonard felt the hairs on his neck arise. He'd heard this language before and it wasn't Gaelic... He'd heard it not in this life. His eyes turned instinctively to Drew, a question looming large in his gaze, but Drew only smiled encouragement.

 

No. Not Drew. Why didn't that name ring true all of a sudden? He had another name... Lancelot. That was it! A shiver of recognition rushed through Leonard. Yes... Sir Lancelot and he had once been Sir Leon, first knight of Camelot. Somehow the knowledge didn't shock him... in his heart he'd known for some time. It was only his head which had resisted the revelation, but no longer.

 

His ruminations were cut short by the rustle of a small, rotund bustling woman. She was still wearing her ill-fitting Harris tweed suit, but here the similarity to a human ended. Her visible skin was a swarthy pink with dark pimples, like polished pebbles on a beach, irrupting across her face, nose and chin, both of which were hooked liked pincers.

 

Regardless of his new found knowledge, Leonard recoiled. “What the hell is that?”

 

“It appears Ms Grun is a pixie,” Fiona answered in a whisper, while Grunhilda's pointed ears twitched, attempting to eavesdrop

 

“You were looking for me?” the pixie asked, her voice curiously pitched between a grate and a squeal. “It were better for you if you hadn't come seeking me out.”

 

“And why is that, Grunhilda? Do you think we haven't come prepared?” Fiona countered, squaring up to this gross creature.

 

“What is it you want me for? I'm but a poor pixie... very low in the scheme of things,” she said ingratiatingly, yet her hands were working their spells. Suddenly, she threw her arms wide. **“Astrice!”**

 

But Fiona was ready. Her staff met the assault and deflected it into a bush, discharging the power into the ground. “You have to do better than that, Grunhilda.”

 

“ **Astrice!”** Grunhilda's eyes blazed and her voice rose in hysteria as she watched Fiona avoid her spell again. “I can summon my master... and you, witch, are no match for him.”

 

Surprisingly, Fiona answered unafraid, “You speak of your Sidhe King and his entourage? They are formidable, yet I would advise you not to summon them because I have my own support.”

 

Grunhilda cackled gleefully, looking from one young man to the other. “These puny mortals cannot help you. My masters will tear them apart.”

 

“Don't be insulting,” Fiona retorted. “My friends might be mortals, but they are far from puny. Do you know they once upheld one of Briton's finest civilisations?” She stared hard at the pixie for a long moment. “However, they are not of whom I speak.”

 

“Yet you've sealed their fate, Fiona MacDougall, white witch.” Grunhilda waddled to the edge of the water, where a lowering sun turned the waters to molten glass and the small wind edged the waves with fringes of gilt. The pixie seemed to swell in size and her voice sounded loud over the glade. **“** **A shruith inn Side, is Grunilda messe! Dot-iccu la mòrumaldoiti do aiscid dàlae frit-su!”**

 

Upon the glimmer of the water unearthly figures flew and danced, swooping and swirling until the most prominent moved to hover before his servant. The faerie elder was old, his skin wrinkled and almost transparent, his prominent eyebrows white as pristine snow and his clothes from an era that existed only in mythical tales. “Grunhilda, why have you summoned us? We do not look kindly on being disturbed.”

 

“You see these human beings here? They have been foolish enough to challenge your humble follower in going about her business.” She stabbed over her shoulder with a dismissive thumb. “Great one, I pray you vanquish them for your worshipful retainer.”

 

“And this will promote my cause, Grunhilda?”

 

Grunhilda bobbed a bow, her lumpy bosom almost bursting out of her jacket at the clumsy movement. “Indeed, most high one. I'm working in collaboration with a powerful sorcerer and an esteemed High Priestess...”

 

“I repeat, Grunhilda, will your current employers further my claim as Sidhe King, ruler over all magical beings?”

 

“I have no doubt, Sire. They will prostrate themselves are your feet...”

 

Drew couldn't restrain a bark of laughter, adding sarcastically. “I doubt Morgause would bow at anyone's feet...”

 

“Silence, human!” The faerie king rose higher in the air, his gossamer wings gleaming as they beat rapidly. “I will deal with this haughty Priestess and her magic ally in good time, but first, mortals, prepare to leave this plane of existence.”

 

The tiny, grotesque figure directed his staff towards the group of humans, screeching in his own language, but Fiona stood firm and caught the bolt with her purloined rod. There was an explosion of light in mid-air, but the destructive force was halted.

 

“So you have one of our staffs, witch, but it will avail you nothing. No one can stand against the Sidhe for long.” The faerie's ugly face crinkled and his pointed teeth bared as he concentrated his magic once more. “You are doomed. I will...”

 

Whatever the Sidhe King was about to say or do would never be known as above him and his retinue arrived another creature of magic with wings much greater, more radiant and more powerful than the faeries. A being whose magic was as ancient and as potent as the Sidhe.

 

Aithusa swept low, roaring with a fiery breath, scouring the surface of the loch and, after she'd passed over the only trace left of the warlike Sidhe was scattered cinders drifting slowly on the breeze. She'd arrived unexpected by her prey, though Fiona was completely nonplussed. Clearly she'd sent for the friendly dragon.

 

“Shit! A bloody dragon!” Drew exclaimed, but taking it in his stride. As Lancelot, he'd come across a lot of strange beings and this one, at least, appeared to be on their side.

 

Not so Leonard, who started backing away, searching for somewhere to take shelter. Of course, Leonard had just remembered his past life and in those days dragons were enemies. He'd been threatened once or twice with extinction by the dragon's fire.

 

“Leonard, stay. Don't be afraid,” Fiona called softly but with a certain amount of command. “This is Aithusa and she is a friend.” The white dragon wheeled about and came to settle on the ground, very lightly for an animal of her great size. “Welcome, Aithusa, and thank you for coming at my call.”

 

Looking askance between the great dragon and the white witch, Leonard finally asked Fiona, “You're a dragon lord?”

 

“Oh, no. Not me. That's Merlin, but since I threw my lot in with you all, Merlin thought it best that he introduce me, albeit telepathically, to Aithusa, just in case we should need her help.” Fiona turned back to the silver skinned dragon and bobbed an old-fashioned curtsy. “Aithusa, it's wonderful to meet you in the flesh. We're grateful for your aid. Though I own a Sidhe staff, I'm not sure I could have counteracted the Elder's magic for long.”

 

“You do yourself an injustice, Fiona MacDougall.” Aithusa's voice issued from her sinuous throat like the velvet tones of a flute. “My friend Merlin has every faith in your powers, but I was happy that you didn't have to put them to the test.”

 

“Bloody hell! It talks!” Leonard's mouth dropped open almost as wide as his eyes.

 

Aithusa turned her head and looked down her long nose. “Of course I talk. But if you're referring to me, I would prefer to be addressed as a she... not an it.” She cocked her head and listened to the frantic beating of the red haired man's heart. Her chuckle rumbled through her chest, shaking the ground. “Leonard - - I believe that is your name - - there's no need to be afraid of me. You're a friend of my lord Merlin and thus you are a friend of mine.”

 

“I'm not exactly frightened,” Leonard reassured the over large yet somehow now endearing creature. “Just a little taken aback. I never knew dragons still existed.”

 

“Very few people do, Leon. May I call you Leon? And would you prefer Lancelot or Drew?” She swung her attention to the very good-looking guy, standing by Fiona. These born again knights were extremely handsome, even without their red cloaks. She could almost regret being a dragon... but then again, she was unique.

 

“Drew, please, if you don't mind. My life in Camelot days didn't end too well and I'm hoping for an improvement this time around.” Drew walked forward, sticking his hand out in a gesture of greeting and was taken aback as a giant toe touched his hand with amazing gentleness.

 

“I'm happy to meet you, Drew.” Again Aithusa's nose came close to the ground. “And I wish you all good things in your current life.”

 

Suddenly, Aithusa's temperament changed, proving that she wasn't always a friendly dragon. With a threatening snarl, the speed of lightning and great weight she grounded her foot right in front of Grunhilda who'd taken advantage of these friendly introductions to try sneaking away from the waterside.

 

“On the other hand, Ms Grun, or Grunhilda, you have every need to be afraid... to be very afraid,” Aithusa informed the pixie who had somehow morphed back into a human being. “I'm told you've been causing a very dear friend of mine great hardship and I am not amused. I would be gratified... and you yourself would be in a much safer situation if you would go with these people to the nearest police station and admit you lied when you accused Arthur Penderel of bribery and corruption.”

 

Grunhilda shrank back. “I can't. You don't understand. Sigan would kill me.” The words tumbled out in quick, breathy phrases. “I was only doing what he instructed me and he's a very powerful sorcerer.”

 

“Just as the friends you summoned were powerful faerie folk and yet, they are no longer able to hurt anyone,” Aithusa said, sounding as if she were merely passing on some friendly advice. “And Sigan isn't here... but I am.” The dragon breathed deeply while her white throat glowed rosily from the fire building within. She opened her mouth to yawn and Grunhilda almost jumped the height of herself. Aithusa sighed and continued talking, “I beg you not to be tiresome and just do as I say. Go with these nice people... and remember, I'll be very close at hand... watching...”

 

Drew and Leonard came forward to escort Ms Grun back to their car, Fiona saying as they did so, “Once more, I offer you our heartfelt thanks, Aithusa. Now, Ms Grun, shall we go?” A crestfallen Grunhilda, realising she was completely routed, allowed herself to be led away.

 

There was a beating of wings and the four humans craned their heads to watch as the dragon took gracefully to the sky. “Good luck at the police station,” Aithusa called. “And we'll all meet again soon...”

 

Ms Grun didn't seem to appreciate the arrangement.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since some of this chapter is devoted to the 'co-stars' I'd love to know if it held your interest. Also, did you enjoy meeting up with a certain dragon again?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	33. A Piece of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has an important meeting and someone remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for continuing to read and support my story. Again, it's a slightly shorter chapter but quite an important plot development.

Chapter Thirty-three

 

A Piece of the Puzzle

 

 

Rhys had been surprised when Wayne asked to be picked up at Cardiff Central Police Station, but he assumed that the reporter's current project had taken him there, which probably meant the vagrant's mysterious death had now become a criminal investigation.

 

Wayne gave a low whistle as he slid into the passenger seat and commented with a small touch of envy, “Nice wheels! I take it they belong to the Golden Boy?”

 

“You think I could afford this on my salary?” Merlin replied, chuckling, but his tone quickly changed. “Since you're here, I'm guessing your inquiry into the homeless man's death has now become a murder hunt?” He jerked his head at the glass fronted police headquarters.

 

Wayne shrugged non-committally. “Well let's just say 'death due to suspicious circumstances.'” There was a long pause as he waited for Rhys to guide the car out into the flow of traffic. “It's totally weird. The pathologists are stumped. There are no cuts nor contusions on the surface of the body, yet almost every bone is broken and most of his vital organs are turned to mush. No one knows who... or what could have inflicted so many injuries. If it had been a hit and run, there would have been some external signs... but there's nothing. It's as if he'd been killed by... magic!” He laughed, a staccato bark of equal measures of cynicism and frustration. “Ignore me! That's a crazy idea.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Rhys answered slowly.

 

Was it time to speak to Wayne, or was Arthur correct and their erstwhile knight should be allowed to remember... or not... of his own free will? Wayne's revelation might not be a happy one. Gwaine had died painfully and, more to the point, he'd died at the hands of the one-time version of the woman who he now loved. Perhaps he should remain in ignorance. On the other hand, was it fair to Wayne to take him to meet Will when they could be walking into Sigan's trap? If that was the case then the existence of magic would soon become clear. Merlin glanced at Wayne who was staring straight ahead, clearly puzzled, and decided to hedge his bets.

 

“You know, Wayne, there are a lot of things on earth which seem strange... until you can figure them out. Maybe there will be a logical explanation...”

 

“Or maybe not! But, hey... who believes in magic?” Wayne laughed again, before shrugging off his misgivings. “OK, tell me what was so important I had to drop everything for you.”

 

The late afternoon traffic was starting to build as commuters were making their way home, anxious to leave work to enjoy the sunshine. Merlin forbore to answer for some minutes as he threaded his way north towards Merthyr Tydfil. He was tempted to keep quiet, but Wayne forestalled him.

 

“Rhys, I don't like mystery tours and I'm already aware that you and Arthur are holding something back, so do me a favour and tell me why I'm here... at least!”

 

“I'm going to meet a guy called Will Edwards. He's an old friend of mine who seems to think he has important information for me. Arthur thought it might be a trap, so he wanted someone to cover my back.” Rhys was still concentrating on the road ahead but the number of cars was thinning out slightly as they hit the suburbs of Cardiff.

 

“What's wrong with him volunteering? Or are you telling me The Princess's skin is so precious that he won't risk a bit of danger for you?”

 

Rhys glanced sideways, grinning. “Come on, Wayne. You know Arthur doesn't give a damn about risking his neck. He's the original George and the dragon! Actually, he wanted to come along but he has other worries at home... and, though you don't understand, the citadel could well be under siege.”

 

“You're referring to Anna's kidnappers again?” Wayne tapped his fingers on the dashboard speculatively. “But Anna tried to kill her father... If she's thrown in her lot with the bad guys, I'm assuming we're talking Stockholm Syndrome here? Mind you, I wouldn't have thought Anna was held long enough for that to happen... unless this Morgause person has access to some state of the art bio-technology.”

 

“You could say that,” Rhys conceded, while giving Wayne another sidelong stare. Had Wayne regained some of his own memories? “She's pretty skilled at what she does.”

 

“Skilled enough to put Arthur and his family in jeopardy?”

 

“More than just the Pendra... Penderels.” As they left the confines of Cardiff behind, Rhys put his foot on the accelerator and the powerful car seemed to leap forward, the engine purring smoothly like a big cat. “Wayne, you don't know me very well... but I'm asking you to trust me for the moment. We've got to get this meeting out of the way... and there's something else happening tonight which is even more important. But, if things go as well as we hope, Arthur and I will tell you everything...”

 

“And I can publish?” A large grin lit up Wayne's face and his eyes sparkled impishly. “Don't worry. I've made these sorts of agreements before and I won't let you down, but the Princess has to agree to give me exclusive rights to the story.”

 

Holding back a chuckle that Wayne should use the same nickname for Arthur which his ancient counterpart had employed, Merlin chose to answer somewhat evasively. “You're the only journalist who's on-board, and I imagine it'll be up to you what you choose to write, but Arthur will want the final word, of course. After all, it's his family and his company, but I'm sure you can come to some agreement.”

 

“Fair enough!” Wayne slid down in the seat, his head sinking on his chest as his eyes closed. To all intents and purposes, he was taking a nap, though Merlin didn't believe that for a moment. The journalist was clearly reviewing his options in private, while Merlin was actually wondering how anyone, even the gregarious Wayne, would report the existence of magic.

 

Once they hit the countryside they made good time and they were pulling up at the leisure park sooner than Rhys expected. However, as neither had a bicycle, it took much longer to walk to the out-of-the-way picnic spot where Will was already waiting.

 

He crept stealthily through the trees into the small clearing, staring around him as if he were afraid they'd been followed. “Thanks for coming,” Will said, keeping his voice low. “I thought you'd come alone though. Who's this?” He pointed with some irritation towards Wayne.

 

Merlin searched his erstwhile friend's face, not liking what he saw. Will had always been a rather robust individual, stocky and vital, with a bulldog like tenacity for his belief in the equality of man. Now he appeared pared down to the bone... almost haunted. How had this change come about so quickly? The one answer which echoed in his mind unsettled Merlin.

 

“He's just a friend, Will,” he said offering a conciliatory smile. “There's no need to be upset.”

 

“You mean he's a friend of Penderel,” Will replied hastily, his brows lowering.

 

“Actually, I'm not!” Wayne moved to stand by Rhys's shoulder. “I know him... sort of, but I'm more friendly with his sister, Anna. We've worked on a couple of stories together over the years.”

 

At this statement, Will looked ready to bolt. “You're a reporter?” He glanced at Rhys, his expression reproachful and bleak. “You brought a reporter when I told you I had some private information.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Will. I hope you know me better than that. Wayne is here as a friend, and he would never print anything he hears unless you agreed. Would you, Wayne?

 

At least Wayne was pretty quick on the uptake. “Of course not! I don’t even know what this is all about. Apart from that, I never reveal my sources.”

 

Moving closer to Will, Rhys said in his most confident voice. “You asked to see me, Will. It sounded urgent, so I came. I'm sorry, but you never specified to come alone... and I thought, if you were in trouble, maybe two allies were better than one. If you can't trust Wayne, then trust me...”

 

The defiant Will considered Rhys's proposal for a moment, before seeming to deflate. “OK. I've got to tell someone or I'll go mad.” However, he hadn't given up his indignation totally. “But you both have to promise me to keep my name out of this. If... he got to know I'd blabbed... you're probably talking to a dead man.”

 

“Hey, mate. Surely it can't be as bad as all that,” Wayne said sympathetically. In his line of work, he'd heard rash statements before and mostly they'd been exaggerated by nervous individuals, but judging from Ryhs's expression, he wasn't a hundred percent certain this was the case here. So, instead he said, reassuringly, “And I meant what I said about keeping your name secret... whatever you tell us.”

 

Glancing from Wayne to Rhys, Will finally made a decision. He beckoned them to come closer and, with a final search of the woods around them, he started talking, very quietly. “Remember I told you I got an offer of another job, Rhys?” When Merlin nodded, Will rushed on, eager to get his tale off his chest. “Well... let's just say it wasn't what I expected. In fact, it wasn't a real job... more like a post as an industrial spy.”

 

“Sigan Fuels?” Rhys injected into Will's tumbled confession, but his question halted Will.

 

“You know? What? Does Penderel have all his employees watched?” Will asked incredulously.

 

“No! Of course not. Believe me, it was just a guess... but a calculated one. You did hint you might be going to work for one of Camelot's competitors, and the main one, right now, is Sigan Fuels. I only put two and two together. Arthur had no idea.” Actually, Arthur knew now, but under normal circumstances, he would have hardly noticed Will's defection. In such a large organization, it happened all the time. “Did you take the job?”

 

“In a way.” Will nodded. He still seemed very stressed. “I met up with Mark Cornwallis. He's the head of the company... and he soon made it clear what he wanted from me. Believe me, Rhys, I didn't choose to become a spook... only, he offered me a lot of money for information.” He stared at the ground, scuffing twigs and dead leaves about with his foot. “I really thought I was bettering myself.”

 

“What sort of information was he looking for?” Wayne asked, his instincts for chasing a story on high alert.

 

“Stuff about Arthur Penderel... where he was... what he was doing. And, lately, about Rhys here.”

 

Wayne shrugged. It seemed his intuition might be wrong in this case. “None of that seems very incriminating. Maybe this Mark guy just wants to get to know who his rivals are.”

 

With a determined and a somewhat fearful shake of his head, Will spoke again. “You don't know this man. He's weird. He gives me the creeps... and when I tried to break off the connection, he threatened me.” Will's eyes came back up to engage with Merlin's. “Rhys, you've got to understand. I didn't want to put you in the frame... but I think I have.”

 

“Threatened you? What's so scary about this Cornwallis guy?” Wayne asked, he rolled his shoulders, beginning to suspect he and Rhys were on a wild goose chase.

 

“He can kill!” Will dropped that bombshell into the conversation and, unsurprisingly, there was silence.

 

Since Rhys seemed disinclined to comment, Wayne continued. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“He's a murderer. I saw him do it... and, believe me, I've never seen anything like it before.”

 

At last, Rhys roused himself. “I think you'd better tell us what you witnessed, Will, and I'll try to keep you safe.”

 

Will started reliving the incident, but he quickly checked the trees around him before he spoke. “It was the other night, down at the end of the docks... the spare industrial ground where hardly anyone ever goes these days.” Wayne was now on full alert when he heard the time and location. “Cornwallis asked to meet me. He wanted all the information I could give him on you, Rhys, though he didn't say why... and I didn't want to ask. Like I say, he's very strange. He's someone you wouldn't want to meet on a dark night... and I'm sorry I ever took up with him...” Here Will's narration stopped as he contemplated the ground at his feet once more.

 

“It's OK, Will.” Merlin spoke reassuringly, quite aware of why a normal individual would be scared by the extent of Sigan's power. “Can you tell us what happened that got you so worried? Did he do something to you?”

 

“Not to me exactly. Though he was angry that I couldn't tell him what you'd been up to lately... just that you seemed to be hanging around with Arthur Penderel. That got him even madder.” Will looked up at his friend. “Rhys, I could swear his eyes changed black... like they were coals. I don't frighten easily... but I could feel my skin creep.” Will swallowed hard at the memory and resumed his silence.

 

“And that's it?” Wayne asked incredulously. “That's what you brought us here to tell us? A fucking waste of time! I was in the middle of a murder inquiry...”

 

“At the docks?” Will turned his attention to the man he'd just met. Wayne nodded, as his radar returned to high gear. “I saw it,” he said, flatly, then turned back to Rhys. “Like I said, Cornwallis wasn't happy with me... but he gave me instructions to continue to monitor you and Arthur, before he left. For a few seconds, he seemed to just disappear, so I started to walk back to where I'd parked my car. I'd only gone a few yards when I saw this tramp come from behind a skip. He was an old man and he looked completely down and out. Only Cornwallis hadn't gone. He was just ahead of me. The guy staggered in front of Cornwallis and asked him for some money to buy himself something to eat. At first, Cornwallis just ignored him, but the beggar put his hand on Cornwallis's sleeve. It was the last thing he ever did. With little more than a backward glance, Cornwallis flicked the guy off as if he was some kind of insect. He just waved his hand and sent the poor man flying through the air. It seemed to go on forever... then he hit another skip. One of the big industrial steel ones. I heard the thump and the crack... then the tramp was lying on the ground like a rag doll. I quickly ducked behind some rusting machinery. I was sure I'd be next if Cornwallis realised I'd witnessed the killing, but he never looked back. He just seemed to vanish again.”

 

Wayne frowned. He knew he was on the verge of a strange breakthrough. “That's all of what he did? He threw the man against a skip... and broke every bone in his body.”

 

“I'd no idea of the state of the man's injuries, but if you say so,” Will answered Wayne, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly on Rhys. “And I wouldn't say he actually threw him... not physically. He just brushed him off... as if a beggar had no right to touch him. But, Rhys, I did see his eyes and I know -- this time they were as black as the ace of spades.”

 

“Are you sure that's what happened?” Wayne asked, his scepticism coming to the fore again. “I mean, it was night and you were stressed out. Perhaps you imag...”

 

“No! I know what I saw, but if you're asking me would I stand up in a court of law and repeat what I've just told you, the answer is no. They'd think I was insane... not to mention I value my skin too much. I don't want to end up like that homeless guy.” The two men squared up to each other, weighing each other up, until Will spoke again. “And if you doubt me, take a look at your friend, Rhys. He believes me!”

 

Rhys gave them both an embarrassed, mirthless grin. “Actually, I do... but, if I told you what I knew, you'd both commit me to an asylum and throw away the key.”

 

Will and Wayne exchanged looks, before turning their gazes to Rhys. “If you know what killed that guy, I think you should tell us,” Wayne said, his voice without inflection.

 

Merlin chewed his lip anxiously. “I'm not sure you'll believe me.”

 

“Oh, I don't know. I think I'm ready to believe anything round about now,” Will said encouragingly.

 

“Yeah, me too. There's no weapon I'm aware of that could cause such injuries... Besides, according to Will, this guy just did it with a flick of his wrist. So when you've exhausted all the probable causes, you're left with the improbable...”

 

Swiping his sweating palms on his jeans, Merlin looked from one friend to the other. “Would you consider magic improbable enough?”

 

“A magician! That's the best you can do?” Wayne hooted with scorn. “I know I mentioned it earlier but, personally, I'd have gone with an alien with some kind of radiation blaster.”

 

The three shared an awkward laugh, Merlin deciding the others weren't ready for that particular disclosure. He couldn't suppress a feeling of disappointment. Going into battle with Gwaine by his side again had been an exhilarating prospect. The knight had had such a joy of living even in the most dangerous of situations, and Merlin had suspected that Wayne was well on the way to getting his memories back. Yet, if he were honest, perhaps Wayne chose not to remember as a self-preservation mechanism. Merlin hadn't been there at the end of Gwaine's life but he'd heard the grizzly details. Without the knowledge of his past, Wayne wouldn't have to confront the problem that Anna... or Morgana had tortured and left him to die.

 

Realising that his wish to have Gwaine back was somewhat self-centred, Merlin shrugged off his regret. Arthur was right. What would be, would be! Instead, he led the others back to the path, saying over his shoulder. “You know, Will, since you saw Cornwallis attack that man, you should go to the police. Wayne has contacts on the force who'd be interested in listening to your statement. They are investigating that poor soul's death, after all.”

 

“But what should I say. They're hardly going to believe my story...”

 

“Maybe... but you don't have to tell them every detail,” Wayne said, haltingly, as if he were thinking through his ideas as he spoke. “Say you went to meet Cornwallis because you thought he was going to offer you a job, but when you found out he only wanted you to spy for him, you declined...”

 

“But wouldn't the police wonder at the meeting place?” Will sounded doubtful, his hands delving into his pockets to stop them from trembling.

 

“Then you agree,” Wayne said, warming to the subject. “Say you were intrigued by that... and, being a loyal employee of Camelot Industries, you decided to find out what the boss of one of their main rivals was intending...”

 

“That would work!” Merlin chimed in, with a grateful nod to Wayne. “Tell them you left, but you heard a noise and when you turned you saw the beggar confront Cornwallis and the next thing you knew Cornwallis had thrown the old man against the skip... Let the police deal with the incongruous injuries. And if the police ask why you haven't come forward before this, tell them you were scared Cornwallis would harm you as well.”

 

“But, Rhys, that's the whole point. I wanted to warn you that Cornwallis has a grudge against you and Arthur... way beyond that of a normal business rival. I have no idea why... But now I know what he's capable of, you're both in danger. I'm probably in danger, if he finds out I've told you.”

 

A small smile flitted across Merlin's face. Will might not have realised, but he'd called his boss Arthur for the first time. There was no doubt in Merlin's mind that Will had come down on the side of the good guys. “But he's not going to find out that you've spoken to me.” Halting, Merlin leaned closer to his old college buddy. “Will, after you leave here, whether you go to the police or not, I want you to go home and pack. Go stay with your sister in Manchester and don't return until I tell you it's safe to do so.”

 

“I'm sorry, Rhys. I've made a right mess of things. I doubt I'll ever like Arthur, but I believe he's a better man than Cornwallis.” Will hunched up his shoulders and kept walking. “I chose badly and I suppose I'm unemployed now, so Manchester is probably a good move for me...”

 

“Arthur never said anything about you losing your job. In fact, according to him, he never received your resignation.” Rhys squeezed Will's shoulder. “Just take some leave, wait till this all blows over and you can come back to the lab. We can work together again.”

 

“Thanks, Merlin... and if you don't mind backing me up, Wayne, I'd like to talk to your cop friends.”

 

Wayne smiled, his white teeth gleaming amongst the dark stubble on his face, as he pushed his floppy hair back from his forehead. “I'd be happy to arrange that, and I think the sooner the better. The quicker we can put this Cornwallis bloke away the easier we'll all feel. Rhys, do you mind dropping us back at police HQ?”

 

“That's not a problem,” Rhys answered, though, as Merlin, he knew well that no police cell could hold Mark Cornwallis, who he was now certain had been taken over by Cornelius Sigan. There was only one way to imprison the ancient sorcerer and make sure he did no more damage. To accomplish that would take a good deal of research first. “But I meant it, Will, when I said you should take yourself out of harm's way. Actually, Wayne, I'd suggest you should do the same... only I'm pretty sure you wouldn't heed my advice.”

 

“Exactly! You know me well,” Wayne answered with another wide grin. “I'm used to investigating bad people, Rhys. Besides, this Cornwallis has no idea I'm on his case... and, according to Will, you should probably be worrying more about yourself and the Princess.”

 

“I guess that's true.” Rhys conceded. Of course, Wayne had no idea what defences Merlin had at his fingertips. “But the best form of defence is attack...”

 

“That's true too. If you need any help, you can call on me anytime.” Wayne bowed from the waist with a flourish then took to marching quickly back to the car. Will and Merlin followed on behind. Though Wayne hadn't had a revelation, Merlin felt happy that he had, willingly, joined the new and growing band of brothers in their fight against evil.

 

Nevertheless, he was totally blind-sided when, just before they reached the car, Will held him back, leaned in close and whispered, “So you are up to your old tricks, Merlin... I knew it!”

 

When he heard Will speak his real name, Merlin's knees almost buckled. He'd been so sure it would be Wayne who remembered... and yet, why should he be so surprised? Apart from his mother, Will had been the first person who'd ever known he had magic. They'd grown up together as boys in Ealdor and he'd been keen to share his secret with his best friend, even if Hunith had been angry when she'd discovered his confession. The thing is that Will had been worthy of his trust, but would this modern day Will be so steadfast?

 

Merlin pulled himself together to listen to whatever more Will had to say. “It all came back to me when I saw what Cornwallis did to that poor man. You weren't joking when you said it was magic, but I couldn't say anything earlier because of Wayne. He has no idea.” Will smiled sheepishly. “You don't have to worry, though. I'll keep your secret. I won't say a thing to anyone, but I'm assuming Arthur knows.”

 

Still in shock, Merlin couldn't rely on his voice, so he just nodded and Will continued quickly, aware that Wayne was watching them closely with a puzzled and slightly suspicious expression.

 

“If you don't mind, I'll keep to the sidelines this time. I know when I'm out of my depth, so I'll do as you ask and try to stay safe... and wish you and Arthur all the best.”

 

Merlin's wide smile broke across his face and his eyes twinkled as he shook Will's hand. “I'm glad you know. I was so sorry I couldn't save you last time. Take care... and we'll talk about all this later, once I neutralise Cornwallis.”

 

“I'd like that... but, for now, look after yourself... and Arthur. He always was a better man than I gave him credit for.”

 

No more was said... no more was needed, as the three piled into the car and headed back to Cardiff and their future endeavours.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for this week. Hopefully, I'll post on time next week. If you have the time, I'd love to hear what you think of how my story is going.


	34. The Cauldron of Arianrhod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Merlin and friends travel to the ancient site to free Anna from The High Priestess's spell. Their quest is almost vanquished until help comes from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for continuing to read my story. It's lovely to see that the show, Merlin, still has followers.
> 
> There are a number of spells in this chapter and they are shown in bold. I'd also like to thank a very helpful site of Merlin spells where I find the spells I use, though I have put together some of my own in this story by using an Old English translation site.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my efforts.

Chapter Thirty-four

 

The Cauldron Of Arianrhod

 

 

“Will Edwards has gone to the police to make a statement against Cornwallis? What for?” Arthur was quick to question Merlin the moment he returned to the citadel.

 

“I've just come from dropping Will and Wayne off at city headquarters. You know the homeless man whose death Wayne has been looking into? Well, Will saw Cornwallis kill him.” Merlin couldn't repress a groan as he sank into the library chair he'd commandeered as his own. It was extremely comfortable and, right about now, Merlin felt he needed a rest. It seemed he'd been charging around non-stop for days and he was almost running on empty. After all, he was fifteen-hundred years old.

 

“He did? Fuck!” Arthur threaded his fingers through his hair. “Cornwallis is a murderer. Mind you, after what happened on Torsay, nothing surprises me anymore.”

 

“Technically, it isn't Cornwallis. It's Cornelius Sigan who's inhabiting his body.”

 

“Yeah, well. No one's going to believe that in this day and age.” Arthur dropped into a leather chair opposite his friend, his hands gripping the arms till his knuckles showed white, imagining what could have happened to the people he cared about on the island. Seconds passed. Finally, he relaxed back in the chair. “So, is Will's testimony enough for the police to charge Cornwallis, or Sigan... or whoever?”

 

“I shouldn't imagine so. Will can place Cornwallis at the scene, but there's the weird methodology of the killing to consider. Does Cornwallis look like a guy who could break every bone in a man's body, or destroy most of his internal organs?”

 

“Hell! I take it he blasted him with magic,” Arthur said, after casting his mind back to his first life and the attacks he'd witnessed in Camelot. He grimaced sourly, leaning his head on the back of his chair and gazing at the ceiling. “He must have used a powerful spell to do that much damage. Dark magic? I can see how the coroner would be baffled.”

 

“You've got it in one!” Merlin pointed a finger at Arthur. “However, Will's witness statement should be enough for the police to question Cornwallis, which means he could be otherwise engaged tonight.”

 

“And that can only be a good thing.” Arthur sat up straighter. “I know you tell me you're the most powerful warlock ever, Merlin, but it worries me that you could be facing both Sigan and Morgause at the same time. Can you beat their combined forces?”

 

“I think so, but I'm hoping I won't be on my own.”

 

“No, you won't. I'll be right there with you, watching your back, just as you did mine all those hundreds of years ago.” Arthur beamed a smile at Merlin before his features settled back into an anxious frown. “But, if I'm honest, I was thinking along the lines of someone with magic. I wish Fiona was here, but perhaps Matthew would do instead?”

 

“No. Not Matthew. I've another job for him... and it's more his computer skills than his magical ones. I need him to trace the original Camelot. Have you any ideas of where it actually was?”

 

If it was possible, Arthur's brow creased further. “There's lots of speculation. A number of sites lay claim to being the true one. Particularly Tintagel and even one as far north as Scotland, but you and I both know those aren't right.” He pursed his lips as he thought. “My estimation would be somewhere in the west, but not Glastonbury. Perhaps somewhere else in Somerset... or Dorset.”

 

“Glastonbury was the Lake of Avalon... but that in itself is a clue.” Merlin jumped up and began pacing, reviewing his memories of when he actually was a young man. “I remember meeting Kilgarrah outside Camelot one time and asking him to take me to Avalon to fetch Excalibur. If I recall, I said something like... 'I needed to cross twenty leagues of enemy infested territory...'”

 

“Twenty leagues?” Arthur rested his arms on his knees as he did some mental arithmetic. “If my memory serves me well, there's approximately three miles to a league, which would make a distance of sixty miles or so.”

 

Merlin halted in front of Arthur. “But in which direction?”

 

Again Arthur paused to deliberate. “Somewhere fairly near to a coast.” He glanced up at Merlin, his eyes narrowed in calculation. “Do you remember the time we rescued Elyan from Castle Fyrien? That was on an island barely off the coast and it took us over a day's riding because we camped overnight, but Gwen thought the brigands reached it in a single night of hard riding when they abducted her.”

 

“Could the castle have been St Michaels Mount?”

 

After a second or two, Arthur shook his head. “Nah. Too far south and west I think. Besides, the south coast is smoother; the seas break more gently on the shoreline. The north is craggier. It has the cliffs that we passed on the way to Fyrien which is perched on a rocky outcrop itself.”

 

Merlin sat down with a flash of inspiration. “Maybe Fyrien is Tintagel!”

 

“I think that might be too far away, unless Camelot is further west than we've calculated.” Deep in thought, Arthur rubbed the fair stubble on his chin. “Let's face it, it's so long ago, Fyrien has probably fallen into the sea by now. And there's something else to consider. Arianrhod is Trefil Quarry and that's not too far north of here, in fact. Wales! When we took Guinevere there, we travelled for nearly three days, but it puts Cornwall out of reach, I believe.” Arthur stretched his neck. “Somerset, North Devon and Dorset could still be in the frame. What we need is one of those old maps!”

 

“I'm sorry. I don't have one... and I should've paid more attention; taken more notice of the landscape.” Merlin dropped his head into his hands, his white teeth fretting his bottom lip. “It's just that sometimes I needed to forget... to get away. Far away.”

 

“Merlin, we've talked about this before. I understand.” Arthur rose, crossed to his friend's side and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. “You weren't to know I'd come back.”

 

“Arthur!” Merlin lifted his head, his dark eyes stark with pain and regret. “I always knew you'd come back. I just didn't know when... and I'm ashamed to say that I'd almost given up hoping.”

 

“But you didn't. Plus, I'm pretty certain you never expected Sigan to return. And we're not doing too badly. We've narrowed down the area of our search. Somewhere within a radius of sixty miles from Glastonbury and, maybe west but closer to the north coast than the south. If we give these co-ordinates to Matthew, perhaps he can come up with a few suggestions we can check out.”

 

Merlin grinned at last, though with an edge of self-mockery. “It doesn't sound too much when you say it like that.” Suddenly, he punched the air. “Arthur, didn't we use a ferry on our way to Arianrhod?”

 

“Yes! We must have crossed the Severn somewhere... though I expect it was a very different river mouth from what it is today. That's brilliant, Merlin!” Arthur answered Merlin's smile with one of his own. “But can I ask you why we need to find Camelot? I mean, it would be nice to actually see the old place again, only it sounds like you have an important reason.”

 

“I do. We have to find something which is buried in Sigan's vault underneath Camelot. Something I need to send Sigan back to where he belongs...”

 

What that was Arthur never discovered as Gwen interrupted. “Come on guys. Dinner is ready. Ygraine thought we should eat before we started for Arianrhod.” She smiled at Arthur and held out her hand. “Come. We're in the kitchen.”

 

That certain look which Arthur reserved only for Gwen softened his eyes as he took her hand, and he spoke in a more positive tone to Merlin. “Mum's right. We should eat. You can tell me later what's hidden in Camelot, but remind me to call Matthew before we leave to tell him to search for the old Citadel.”

 

“Why do we need to do that?” Gwen asked, her interest piqued as she led the way down the hall.

 

“Not just for old times' sake.” Arthur caught up to her side and slid his arm around her waist. Though their lives might be intense and chaotic, he couldn't get enough of touching his fiancée. “Merlin's looking for an artefact from Sigan's tomb.”

 

“I'll explain later,” Merlin said as he followed the couple. “Right now we should concentrate on getting Anna to the Cauldron... and curing her of the darkness which has inhabited her soul.”

 

“Amen to that,” Arthur and Gwen spoke in unison, smiling into each other's eyes as they voiced the same thought.

 

*****

 

Twilight was falling as they all piled into Benedict's Range Rover. It was decided to take the larger car as all the party could fit inside. On this night of high summer, the sky had darkened only a little to an almost lilac hue while a shy moon drifted between clouds of deeper purple and stars twinkled faintly where the clouds dispersed.

 

Arthur drove with Merlin in the passenger seat and behind them was an unconscious Anna, flanked by Ygraine and Richard, while Gwen and Freya fitted, a little cramped, into the back. The sat-nav was set for Trefil Quarry and there was little talk as the journey progressed, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.

 

For Arthur, Merlin and Gwen it was a period of recollection, though Gwen had no memories at all of the outer journey. While Richard and Freya were fretting that the enchantment holding Anna in thrall could be washed away as it had for Guinevere... but Ygraine was the most troubled of them all. She was fighting for the life and love of her daughter.

 

They made good time until they turned off onto the private road to the quarry and, here, Arthur was grateful he was driving a four-by-four. The roads had fallen into a state of

disrepair since the quarrying work had ceased and was currently used only by walkers, birdwatchers and the occasional motor and quad bike riders, whom the police had attempted, fairly successfully, to exclude.

 

Even the sat-nav gave up its task halfway to their destination and they finished the drive following Merlin's instructions aided by Arthur. They were travelling by instinct and the few natural landmarks they could vaguely remember, though they didn't always agree. Plus both acknowledged that much heavy work had been done on the area since their last visit. Yet by fate, or the good wishes of the Goddess, they finally arrived at the Cauldron.

 

Merlin and Arthur carried Anna between them on the last stage, when they were forced to abandon the car and, though she was light and petite, they struggled over the rocky ground. It was with some relief that they laid her down by the waterline and everyone of their party was grateful they hadn't been hampered by an angry Morgause or a vengeful Sigan. Surely, it couldn't be this simple!

 

Why, oh why did they tempt fate with such a thought? Almost from the same position that the Dolma had appeared hundreds of years ago, so now a black-clad, golden-haired Morgause did arise. Proud and hostile, she stood her ground before them.

 

“Did you think to steal my sister from me with such ease? Did you truly believe I would allow you to wrest my beloved from my grasp?” Her whole being radiated power and loathing. “Arthur Pendragon! Merlin Emrys!” she called in an imperious voice. “Do you think I have forgotten the wrongs you did to me and mine; to the Old Religion. Did you expect I would forgive your transgressions? Morgause Le Faye neither forgives nor forgets and I am here to make you pay.”

 

Merlin walked to stand in front of the priestess, but he was pre-empted by Ygraine.

 

“And you, Morgause, have you forgotten me?” Ygraine's voice was clear as crystal as she stepped into the arena, her hair shining silver, her skin white as alabaster underneath the fitful moonlight. “Do you suppose I'll allow you to steal my daughter from me, or hurt any member of my family?”

 

Morgause turned her disdainful attention on the fair, still comely woman. “You? Ygraine Pendragon?” Her blue eyes sparkled with a malevolent glint. “You are nothing to me. Your threats do not trouble me, a High Priestess of the Old Religion. You cannot prevent me from doing as I wish.”

 

“But I can,” Merlin announced, his voice calm but authoritative as he strode to the forefront once more. “I will not stand by and watch you harm my friends.”

 

Morgause's scornful laughter resounded around the natural bowl of the quarry. “Merlin Emrys, you are mistaken. Your magic is no match for mine.” To prove the point, she extended her arm towards the ground, her eyes molten gold. As if by command, a column of flame arose; a wind whistled where she pointed, directing the pillar of fire towards Merlin.

 

“ **Merrtorrsweoolhat!”** In an echo from the past, Merlin destroyed her fiery enchantment, shaking the ground beneath all their feet. “Is that the best you can do, Morgause?” he added, conversationally.

 

“ **Ablinn du; forlæt du nu! Forp fleoge!”** The haughty priestess sneered as she sent Merlin flying through the air. 

 

“Merlin!” Arthur sprinted across to his friend, horrified to find him stunned. “Merlin, are you hurt?” He slipped an arm behind Merlin's back to help him sit up, his brows creased with worry. Did it matter that the warlock was, in reality, a very old man? Perhaps in old age he took longer to recover.

 

Help came from an unexpected source as Richard pushed himself up from the ground next to Anna, his knees creaking in protest. He dug deep into his memories of Gaius, as he called aloud.  **“Oferswinge!”** Yet no one was more shocked than he at the result when he saw Morgause sprawled backwards on the gravel. Regrettably, she rose almost instantly and was incanting another spell.

 

“ **Morgana! Awacen!”** Morgause stood tall, though a trifle shaken. She had been taken unawares by the double pronged attack. **“Sweostor, awacen!”**

 

The world around them seemed frozen in time as Anna awoke, called from her drugged twilight world by Morgause. She gazed at the two females who still remained, kneeling at her side. “What happened? What have you done to me?” She directed her questions at Gwen, since the other dark haired woman was unknown to her.

 

“Anna, please. You've been asleep for a long time.” Gwen dared to touch her friend's arm, attempting to keep her close.

 

But Anna had other ideas as she shrugged off Gwen's hand forcefully and scrambled backwards. “I realise that. But why... and where have you brought me?” Her glance swept past Gwen to the strangely grey alien landscape surrounding her, before focussing on the rest of the group, sizing them up accusingly. “What are you all doing here?”

 

“Morgana! Here. To me!” Morgause couldn't resist a self-satisfied smile as she called. “Sister, I need your help. No one can conquer us when we're together.”

 

Anna stood up with the fitness of an athlete, though Gwen did manage to grab her ankle. “Anna, don't do it... please, don't go.”

 

Anna, however, was still under Morgause's powerful spell. She stared witheringly at the woman who sought to impede her, causing Gwen to quickly unhand her, then Anna strode swiftly to the High Priestess. “I'm with you, Morgause,” she declared with an icy contempt, her eyes black as Hades as she ranged alongside her so-called sister.

 

Moments passed while the others seemed to despair at her words, particularly when both women swiftly created another fire storm, more potent than the last. Arthur helped Merlin to rise and the others huddled closely behind the two men, as if there was protection in numbers. Merlin's magic was their only defence, since Richard found he'd completely depleted his long unused skills. Yet they were wrong in that assumption. Ygraine, again placed herself between the group and the pair of sorcerers, one fair and one dark, as the fiery column advanced slowly towards her.

 

“You will hurt no-one, Morgause!” Ygraine stated, her voice calm though resolute. “And you will not take my daughter.”

 

Merlin moved to pull back the older woman out of harm's way, while Arthur called desperately, “Mother, stop! Be careful.”

 

Ygraine shook her head and smiled somewhat glassy-eyed at her son. “I have to do this, Arthur... and, Merlin, stay there. Save your powers for when they are most needed. I can keep Anna from harm.”

 

“You? And how do you propose to do that?” Morgause sneered. “A mere human cannot stand against me.”

 

“Love! Do you disregard tenderness and compassion Morgause?” Instead of shrinking from the approaching heat, Ygraine took two steps forward. “I love my daughter and love is the greatest force of all...”

 

That statement seemed to confound Morgause for a few seconds as she stared silently at Ygraine. Then she smirked. “You think I do not know of love? I, too, love my sister. Stand aside, all of you, or be burnt to a crisp.” And once again Morgause sent the burning tower moving steadily in the direction of her foes.

 

“ **Ic her aciege ænne windræs! Færblæd wawe! Windræs ungetermed: gehiere! Ic ðe bebiede mid ealle strangnesse ðæt ðu geblæwest ond sierest strange! Ge spurne þeos hægtesse Morgause!”**

 

When Merlin was a young man disguised as an ancient one, he'd used these words to summon a whirlwind as he duelled in the forest with Morgana over the destruction of the Formorrah. This time, the voice was softer and in a feminine register, but enunciated with just as much conviction while Merlin, Arthur and the others looked on with total astonishment.

 

All around, the air glimmered, moving restlessly until the wind rose to a howling cyclone. Gravel and dirt was swept up in its force, raining small stones and grit down on friend and foe alike. Arthur gathered his band closer as they tried to shield each other, hiding their faces from the tiny pieces of shrapnel that flew in the charged gale.

 

Suddenly, under the tempest, Morgause's flames exploded in a fireball, levelling all except Merlin and one other... a slim, elegant woman, pale as a lily. Minutes passed, seemingly endlessly, as peace settled back over the earth.

 

Still reeling from the assault of wind and fire, Morgause raised herself from the ground on arms which teetered on the verge of collapse. “What have you done? It's not possible. You don't have magic,” she stammered, staring at Ygraine with a mixture of shock and loathing.

 

“No! But I do.”

 

Around Ygraine, a halo of bright light appeared, glowing gently on all those present... and the voice that spoke sounded like a clarion call.

 

“You had forgotten me, Morgause. Perhaps Ygraine is not magical, but she has always had my protection. I failed her and her family once. I'll not do so again. Anna, my child, will you trust me?” The shadowy form at the centre of the light seemed to smile as she turned to the stunned, confused girl who now sat alone by the edge of the Cauldron.

 

“Who are you?” Anna whispered, rising slowly, unsure of who she could call friend.

 

“I'm known by the name of The White Goddess. I mean you no harm. I inhabit the Cauldron of Arianrhod, the only place able to give you back to the people who genuinely love you and return your spirit to its true self.”

 

Hesitantly, Anna took a few steps towards the light.

 

“No! Stop!” Morgause screamed angrily, climbing unsteadily to her feet. “No! Anna, don't! I will not let you go.” She stretched out a quivering hand, but Merlin was there first.

 

“ **Hleap on bæc!”** He flipped the screeching harpy that was Morgause onto her back where she lay still at last.

 

“Anna, my dear?” Ygraine tried to attract Anna's attention from the unmoving form on the ground. Clearly, her child was bewildered and more than a little afraid. “Anna?” And when her daughter turned a perplexed stare on her, she continued, serenely, stretching out a hand. “Will you take my hand and walk with me and The Goddess into the waters? We will not force you. You do so of your own volition. It must be your choice.”

 

Seconds stretched into minutes while Anna gazed trance like at her mother's hand.

 

“Anna, my dearest daughter, search your heart. Do you think I would do anything to hurt you?”

 

The darkness seemed to shift from Anna's gaze. “No, Mama,” she said, lapsing back to the name she'd used as a little girl. She'd lost her biological parents at too young an age to remember them. Ygraine and Benedict Penderel were the only parents she'd ever known... the only parents she'd ever needed. Her childhood had been one of happiness and love. Without another thought, she slipped her hand within her mother's.

 

The ghostly female form at the heart of the luminescence seemed to fade, though the brilliance went before them, leading mother and daughter into the water, Anna a little to the fore. Again the disembodied voice intoned kindly but with gravitas, repeating Merlin's spell from long ago.

 

“ **Yfel gaest ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan!”**

 

The Goddess fell silent, but the cleansing was clearly successful, as a smiling Anna waded back through the water into her mother's open arms. Tears sparkled on both their cheeks... tears of joy. Anna was free!

 

The others clustered around the lake shore, laughing and hugging in their exuberance and relief, while above them all, the circle of light shrunk, dimming somewhat, but not dispersing completely. The White Goddess, in her mantle of soft light, drifted slowly over to the prone Morgause, where she hovered in the air in silent vigil. Merlin noticed and quietly backed away from the group to follow her.

 

“You would destroy her, if you could?” The disembodied voice asked Merlin, quieter though not unkindly.

 

Merlin shook his head, ambivalently, looking down at his unconscious adversary. He was uncomfortable hurting anyone, even more so another magical being, and yet... “She has caused so much pain in the past and would do so in the future, if allowed.”

 

“Indeed, that is true, therefore I commend you for your reluctance.” The Goddess's face coalesced slightly for Merlin's benefit. “You are a good man, Merlin Emrys... or perhaps I should say Rhys Wilson. You have lived through your long life as we expected you to, but the waiting is over and now we require you to be a mortal.”

 

A tiny smile graced Merlin's face, as he already suspected his immortality had gone... and not regretted, but there was one question he needed answered. “Will I retain my magic?”

 

An answering smile lit The Goddess's face. “Oh, Merlin... I will call you that still, as I'm sure your closest friends will. Merlin, there is nothing on earth which can part you from your magic. It is in your flesh and blood, your bone and sinew. It is your very soul, the essence of your being. Without Merlin there is no magic and without magic there is no Merlin.” The nebulous face grew solemn. “But remember, Merlin, my friend... without immortality, you can be killed. Take great care, as it would sadden me and my sisters to lose you. Though do not despair over much. You too can now experience many incarnations, just as the others.”

 

“I'm not disheartened. Immortality is not always a gift.”

 

“It gladdens my heart to hear you say that. Many would seize it and adapt it for their own venal purposes. It proves we did right when we chose to bestow it on you.”

 

“And Morgause?” Merlin glanced again at the woman at his feet as he asked. She was still deeply asleep.

 

“Morgause was never immortal... though I'm sure she would have gloried in it... in the worst way possible. But, Merlin, I cannot allow you to kill her.” The voice stopped, seeming to swallow a difficult truth, before continuing in a tone that held much sorrow. “I had hoped with each incarnation, Morgause would become more respectful of others; learn the true meaning of life and the wisdom of magic, but it was never to be... or not thus far.”

 

“So what happens now, Goddess?”

 

“As a High Priestess of the Old Religion, The Triple Goddess could never condone Morgause's execution. You've done what was needed here and Anna is safe. Now take your friends and leave here with haste. There are battles still to be fought, and you and Arthur will need all your courage and strength. I will take charge of Morgause for the moment.”

 

“Thank you, Goddess,” Arthur's voice came from behind as he walked up to stand by Merlin. “For my sister's deliverance... and for my Queen's. I never thought to offer you my gratitude back then. My eyes were blinkered, but now I know so much more. You will always have my thanks and my support.” Arthur bowed low from the waist towards the fading light, which seemed to bob a little in the air.

 

“Your recognition is much appreciated, Arthur. However, are you ready for the fight? You have returned because Albion is in peril... perhaps the very planet. The Triple Goddess prays that Arthur and Merlin together will prevail.”

 

Again, Arthur gave another slight bow. “Then we will hope to live up to your expectations... but is it possible you could tell us what fight we are facing?”

 

Another faint smile flitted across the face of The Goddess before both face and light dimmed completely. Only the voice remained... and that telepathically in the minds of the two men. _“Regretfully, that I cannot say. I have already remained too long in this world's realm. The war is greater than you could ever imagine. Be prepared... and I will help you when I can...”_

 

With a further shimmer and sigh the great goddess was gone. The air was hushed about them as the clouds cleared and moonlight streamed down upon the earth, pointing along the pathway that led back to their vehicle.

 

Arthur straightened his shoulders as he gazed around, as if searching for a sign that he hadn't imagined the whole episode. Yet he knew, without doubt, it had all happened and a feeling of peace and resolution invaded his soul.

 

He might face danger and travail, but he would survive. With Merlin's gift of magic and his total faithfulness, they would vanquish evil together... the two sides of the same coin.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you find this chapter interesting? I loved using the ancient Goddess to help my heroes.


	35. Questions, Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives our friends time and a place to rest and contemplate their futures... or their past. However, not everything in the garden is roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy to see the number of people reading my story is staying fairly steady. Thank you for your loyalty and I hope I've given you enjoyment.

Chapter Thirty-Five

 

Questions, Questions

 

 

When Arthur finally drove the Range Rover up to the doors of his parents' home, it was the darkest hour before the dawn. There were questions on all of their minds, however, each one of them felt too exhausted or overawed to even ask, never mind answer.

 

In fact, Anna had fallen asleep en-route and had to be carried to bed by her brother and, when Ygraine suggested that they all slept at the citadel for the rest of the night, no one objected. The house was large enough to accommodate them all, but Ygraine had only smiled indulgently as her son led Gwen to his own room. She wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements were between Merlin and Freya, but offered them the use of adjoining rooms and was glad when they both looked a little relieved. Clearly, the couple cared very deeply for each other, but perhaps there hadn't been enough time in their current relationship for them to become comfortable with more intimacy.

 

Afterwards she'd escorted Richard to another of the guest rooms and having thanked him for his support, she walked slowly passed the grand staircase towards the west wing of the house. Outside her own bedroom, she paused, her heart and brain warring with the tiredness in her limbs. At last, she opened the door to gaze around the familiar room. She'd shared this bedroom with Benedict for nigh-on thirty years, yet without his presence, it felt somehow alien... empty.

 

Absent-mindedly, she removed her clothes and slipped into her night dress, before forcing herself to sit at her dressing table to remove the pins which held her hair in a chignon. Almost on auto-pilot, she set about her nightly rituals for getting ready for bed, pulling a brush through her silver tresses till they lay lightly on her shoulders, then removing her make-up from her face. She leaned closer to the mirror, frowning at the image which stared back at her. Ygraine barely recognised the ageing, anxious woman with dark circles beneath her eyes. With thoughts of her daughter and husband at the forefront of her mind, she failed to notice there was still beauty in her fair frailty... and cared not a jot for how she looked.

 

She rose to go to bed, but instead, with an overwrought sigh, she crossed to the mullioned window which looked over the extensive back garden. Away to the east, she could see a pale line on the horizon which heralded the coming dawn. Only that wasn't what drew her attention. Above the small pond at the foot of the lawn beside a stand of Rowan trees, a faint blue light was glowing, pulsating in the shadows of the branches. Without another thought, Ygraine took a Pashmina from her drawer, wrapping it around her shoulders to ward off the night time chill and hurried down to the garden.

 

“Welcome, Ygraine.” The same voice from that at the Cauldron spoke, but in hushed tones. “You wished to speak to me?”

 

A gentle smile warmed Ygraine's face. “I didn't know I'd summoned you... but perhaps you are the only one who can advise me.”

 

“You are worried for Anna?” The unsubstantial Goddess returned her devotee's smile.

 

“I am.” Ygraine moved to the bench by the side of the reed banked pond. “Anna is a free spirit with an enquiring mind and she will be full of questions when she wakes... and I'm not sure how to answer them... or how much to tell her.”

 

The Goddess nodded. “That much is true, though she will remember none of her journey to the Cauldron, nor of what happened to her until she came to her senses in the water.”

 

“And you think she won't find it strange she awakened in a lake at a place she's never visited before, or not in this life, at least?”

 

“I have no doubt she will. I suppose your predicament is how much you feel you should reveal.” The voice returned kindly, with a deep sense of empathy. “Ygraine, she is your daughter and you know her best, so I would advise you to go with your instincts.”

 

Ygraine sat up straighter. “And if my instinct is to lie to my daughter? Can that be right?”

 

There was a moment of quiet as the Goddess considered her answer. “Perhaps a little prevarication might not be considered a complete lie. Tell her Morgause sought to abduct her and manipulate her again, but that she was rescued by her family and friends. Tell her the waters brought her to her senses. After all, there is more truth in that than she will realise.”

 

“And if she remembers she tried to kill her father?” Ygraine asked, more sharply than she had intended.

 

“Again, you can safely blame Morgause, as that is the whole truth on this particular occasion.”

 

“But refrain from telling her about the magic.” It was a stark statement rather than a question.

 

“If you're asking me if Anna has magic, I think you saw the proof of that earlier tonight, but your intuition is again correct. For the moment it lies dormant within her and was only called forth under Morgause's influence.” The White Goddess hovered more closely to Ygraine. “It wouldn't help our cause, or indeed Anna's for her to learn the truth at this time.”

 

“Oh, Anna! My poor child.” One of Ygraine's hands rose to block her sobs which threatened to break free, though she could not stop the tears which spilled from her eyes. “I fear it would cause her terrible pain and confusion to remember her first life. Yet how can I prevent her from doing so... and, what's more, do I have that right?” she finished on a desperate cry.

 

The Goddess's answer came calmly, but not without some understanding. “Only you can decide, Ygraine, but should you wish me to, I could block out Anna's memories of her first incarnation.” As Ygraine started to shake her head in dismay, she hurriedly continued. “Not indefinitely. I could not do that even if I chose to. Fate will always take a hand in the end, but perhaps it would give Anna a chance to learn her true worth in this current life; that she is valued by both you and her father; her family and friends for all she is...”

 

“A person of magic?” Ygraine finished the Goddess's statement on a whisper. “That we love her despite... No! That we love her because of her magic, since magic makes her who she is...”

 

“Yes. Show her that magic can be used for good. Let her know she has no need to be afraid of the condemnation of those who love her. That she has no reason to feel...”

 

“Ashamed?” For a fleeting second, Ygraine's lovely face turned colder with indignation. “Never! Benedict and I have always been proud of the daughter who was given into our charge... I believe by you.” The last was said with a certainty she had never possessed before.

 

Now The White Goddess's angelic smile could be seen. “Yes. It's the truth. This time, I had to protect her and you were the best person for the task. I knew you would not fail her. I will do as you ask in suppressing her recollections, if you promise me you will help her to fulfil her potential. Arthur and Merlin might require her help in the years ahead.”

 

Once more, Ygraine started up... afraid. “What? What is to happen?”

 

“I will answer you as I did your son. I cannot tell you the future. There is danger ahead, but now I have confidence that you are all prepared to face whatever might come.” The light of the Goddess began to fade as the brightness of the day crept across the sky. Her voice softened to something like a lullaby. “I cannot stay longer. I must return to my Cauldron, and you, Ygraine, must return to your daughter. Sleep. Forget your worries, for now all my forces are gathered together and I have faith they will prevail. Sleep, Ygraine.”

 

The ethereal glow left the garden and Ygraine retraced her steps inside, but she did not return to her lonely bed chamber. Instead, she pushed open the door of Anna's room, and taking the comfortable chair by the bed, she laid her head back and obeyed her Goddess. She slept.

 

*****

 

Anna was still asleep late into the morning but not so her mother. Ygraine awoke abruptly to check on her child, but her neck and back creaked in protest, her whole body feeling stiff and sore having spent the rest of the night in a chair. Satisfied that her daughter was sleeping peacefully, she took herself off to soak in a warm bath, hoping she'd return before Anna awoke.

 

Arthur also roused early, which was surprising, as neither he nor Gwen had felt like sleeping when they found themselves alone in his room. Tired they might have been, but their rediscovered love was still in its first flush of passion and they'd been unable to resist the pull of their physical attraction. However, regardless of the late hour when he finally drifted off, he was awake shortly after dawn. Deeply content he might be in his love for Gwen, he couldn't ignore the other worries which plagued him.

 

He grinned gently as he touched Gwen's cheek, pushing back a stray curl which hovered tantalisingly in the sweet breath from her mouth... her very kissable mouth. Resisting temptation, he forced himself to creep from the bed, leaving her dreamily snuggling into his abandoned pillow. As quietly as possible, he showered and dressed and found his way outside, just as his mother had an hour or so previously.

 

It was there Merlin spotted him when he staggered, rather groggily, from his own bed to glance out of the window. What was Arthur doing up at this early hour? Though the modern day Arthur wasn't quite such a slug-a-bed as his ancient counterpart, he'd been running on nervous energy for days now. Hurriedly pulling on a pair of sweats he found in a chest of drawers, Merlin padded barefoot down the stairs and out the back door.

 

“Gardening?” he asked somewhat surprised as he came upon Arthur. “Since when did you take up gardening?”

 

Arthur sat back on his haunches, his fingers covered in soil and a large prickly weed held, gingerly, in his hand. “I haven't, but Mum loves her garden and she's been so worried of late that it's been a bit neglected. Besides, it seemed better to be doing something productive rather than pacing about aimlessly like a cat on a hot tin roof.”

 

A fairly large cat! Merlin laughed, before enquiring, “What's troubling you?”

 

“What isn't?” Arthur discarded the nettle with a quick shake of his hand and rose lithely, despite the fact that his body still sported a number of bruises from his time in Oban. “The list is long but, presently, you're the reason I can't sleep.”

 

“Me? What have I done?” Merlin was genuinely surprised.

 

“Nothing, actually.” Arthur wiped his hands on his jeans-clad legs, unwittingly smearing traces of soil down the sides of his thighs. “It's not something you've done... but I heard what The White Goddess said... about your immortality, or lack thereof.”

 

“Why are you so shocked?” Merlin dug his chilled hands into the pockets of his zip-up jacket. An errant cool breeze disturbed the early morning air. “You've suspected that might be the case just as much as I have.”

 

Arthur shrugged, inspecting his mother's roses while refusing to look into his friend's eyes. “Guessing and knowing for certain makes a difference.” At last, he turned to engage Merlin's clear, untroubled gaze. “It doesn't worry you? Knowing you could die?”

 

Merlin gave it some thought before he answered. “Not really. Perhaps you have to live for as long as I have to appreciate the ability to die.” He gave a subdued chuckle. “After all, it's a fairly common concept. It's something that normally comes to everyone.”

 

“Fuck, Merlin! Not everyone faces the kind of enemies you do on a seemingly regular basis.”

 

“I'll have you know I've been living a very quiet life these thirty odd years past. I've been in danger more often since I met up with you again. You attract trouble like a magnet!”

 

Arthur started to walk back to the patio doors and the entrance to the house with Merlin falling into step beside him. “Hey! I didn't ask to be reincarnated when the world was facing a major catastrophe. I'd be quite happy to share a quiet life with Gwen and bring up some kids...”

 

“Yeah... maybe you could become a gardener this time, instead of a farmer...”

 

Playfully, Arthur pushed Merlin with his shoulder, catching him off guard and almost knocking him over. Leaving Merlin to regain his own balance he marched on, before suddenly stopping. He turned slowly, his eyebrows arched. “How do you know I dreamed of being a farmer?”

 

Merlin had the grace to blush. “Guinevere told me. When I got back to Camelot after your death, she was so broken... so lost. Oh, she put on a brave face when she was in public: the people needed that, but inside, she was torn apart. At nights, I would go to her chamber and I'd let her talk of you and your life together. She told me everything, the good and the bad. I think it helped.”

 

Arthur's heart ached as he threw his head back and looked towards the clearing sky. It was going to be another hot day. “I can't put her through that again. I can't put you through that again... but neither do I want to suffer that loss as you both suffered.” He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, his gaze lowering till he was watching him closely. “Promise me that you'll be careful. That you won't throw your life away in defence of me.”

 

“I promise. I'll take care. But don't expect me to cower in a corner either. I still have magic and that helps.” Merlin squared his shoulders and returned Arthur's stare. “All your years in Camelot, your life was so often under threat, yet you never let that stop you doing your duty. All those times you were willing to lay down your life for the sake of your people. To die so they might prosper. Even at Camlann, you gave up a life so full of promise for all our safety... can you think I would do less?”

 

“No, of course not! You were and are the bravest man I've ever known, Merlin. But Sigan knows you and he'll be prepared.” Arthur's breath caught in his throat. “That's what worries me.”

 

“Yes. And he'll know exactly what I have to do to rid the world of him. I fooled him once. He won't be duped again.”

 

“You have a plan?”

 

“Not exactly... but a few ideas are coming together.”

 

Nodding, Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder again. “Come on. I think I've done enough weeding for today and my brain functions better after I've had a dose of caffeine...”

 

“And on a full stomach!” Merlin chuckled.

 

Joining the laughter, Arthur led the way inside. “Would it be too much to expect that our problems didn't always involve risking our skins? I'm better prepared to fight in the boardroom these days.” He wiped his mucky trainers on the mat before grasping the handle of the glass door. “Ow!” he howled, drawing back his hand as if he'd received an electric shock and thrusting a couple of fingers in his mouth. His question was muffled. “You wouldn't know a spell for treating nettle stings, by any chance?”

 

*****

 

Gwen and Freya found their men in the small dining room, healthily munching through a fried breakfast which Merlin had prepared.

 

“Good morning, ladies. Come on in,” Arthur said expansively as he waved them to a seat. “If we can't find another job for Merlin, he can always do the cooking for us.” He stuck another forkful into his mouth. “Mind you, he's also pretty good at the odd piece of doctoring, particularly if you get stung by any nasty plants.”

 

“Arthur, don't be horrible!” Gwen declared as she slipped into a chair next to her fiancé. “You know Merlin's worth his weight in gold and you couldn't do without him.”

 

“I know, but don't remind him. His head might grow as big as his waist... though, in his case, that's probably not that big.” Arthur chuckled at his own joke, but quickly changed the subject. “Hello, Freya. Did you sleep OK?”

 

“I did, Arthur. The bed was very comfortable, though I was so tired I could've fallen asleep on a clothesline last night. Thank you, Merlin.” She transferred her attention to the guy who'd just placed a plate of delicious looking food in front of her. “This smells wonderful.” She gave him a beaming smile as she tucked in.

 

“You were up early, Arthur,” Gwen said with forced brightness, the narrowed glance she gave him tinged with worry. “I thought you might take a chance to rest up.”

 

“I'm good. Don't fret, Gwen. I'm doing just fine.” His eyes turned a deeper shade of blue as he placed his hand over hers. “You inspire me... and Merlin feeds me. What more could I ask for?”

 

“Wasn't that an amazing night?” Freya said, between bites. “Did you know that your mother could call on The Goddess like that, Arthur?”

 

“Humph! I've always thought she's an extraordinary woman, so clever, but wise and kind, though, as her son, I'm probably biased. Lately, I've begun to realise she has depths I've never plumbed. But then, it's only recently I discovered I was once King Arthur and my best friend is over a thousand years old... so nothing really shocks me anymore.” Arthur laid down his fork and knife and pushed his plate aside, no longer hungry. “I also think we should be glad of all the help we can get from The White Goddess. This battle isn't over.”

 

*****

 

Moments later, while the two couples were still discussing their future tactics in the war against dark sorcery, Wayne was shown into the room by the housekeeper. He breezed in looking remarkably fit, though it seemed he might have come directly from the police station as he was wearing the same clothes from yesterday and his dark stubble was noticeably thicker.

 

“Hey, guys,” he said, leaning over Arthur's shoulder and pinching a rasher of crispy bacon. “You finished with that?” he asked, his mouth full. When Arthur nodded, he pulled up a chair and proceeded to devour whatever was left as the others looked on amazed at his rate of consumption. “Sorry! It's just that I'm starving.”

 

“Have you come straight from the police?” Merlin asked, voicing his concern. He'd given Will and Wayne a lift to Police HQ in the early evening of the previous day.

 

Intent on eating, Wayne nodded his answer, before he finally got out. “Well, almost. I drove Will to the rail station. He took your advice, Rhys, and he's gone to visit his sister, though there was a time there when I thought the police wouldn't let him go.” He wiped his mouth on a spare napkin. “Is anyone going to eat that toast?”

 

Thankfully, Wayne addressing Merlin as Rhys reminded them all that the reporter was clueless about his and everyone else's true identity and put them on their guard.

 

“Ah... I don't think so. Be my guest,” Arthur offered, while sending Merlin a covert grin of remembrance. “There's marmalade, too.” He pushed the toast rack and the pot in Wayne's direction and passed him his spare side plate and knife. His voice was friendly, but his expression became somewhat bleak. “Why were the police loath to let Will go... and I'm assuming that means Cornwallis is free?”

 

“I'll get to Will later,” Wayne said, as he concentrated on spreading butter and conserve on his toast. “But you're on the nose about Mark Cornwallis. The police did interview him because of Will's testimony, but he had an alibi.” He took a large bite of toast.

 

“He did?” Arthur frowned in annoyance, though not totally shocked by the news.

 

“Yup! A cast iron one too. On the night of the murder, Cornwallis was at an awards dinner in London, from 8.00pm until after midnight, in full view of his fellow diners. He also spent the night at the Westminster Hotel and the staff are ready to swear he never left until the next morning. Now, he might have gone to the little boy's room on a couple of occasions, but unless he's learned how to fly, there's no way he could get from London to Cardiff to kill that poor sod.”

 

The four others exchanged knowing glances, but, thankfully, Wayne was too busy stuffing his face to notice. Distance wouldn't be a problem for a powerful sorcerer like Sigan.

 

“Does that put Will in the frame then?” Arthur asked, his mind focussing quickly on possible consequences.

 

Wayne shrugged, eating the last piece of food and sitting back, wiping his sticky fingers on Arthur's napkin. “According to my mate, the police are attributing Will's statement to mistaken identity for now, however, Cornwallis is trying to put a different spin on it. According to him, it was Will who contacted Sigan Fuels about a job, implying he'd bring information about Camelot Industries with him. Of course, Cornwallis said he would never dream of employing anyone who showed such disloyalty to his current firm. He says that when he told him this, Edwards got angry and promised to get even. Cornwallis is suggesting Will informed on him out of spite.”

 

Arthur pursed his lips. “Do they believe him?”

 

“To tell the truth, they don't know what to believe. They have a body, and on Will's own admission he was there... but again, they don't have a motive, or a weapon and they don't understand the cause of death. They're stumped.”

 

His appetite satisfied, Wayne stood up, stretched his arms above his head and gave one almighty yawn. “I need to get some sleep! That's all I can tell you for now and I really should go home to get washed up. Sorry, ladies, I probably stink like an old boot, but that's what I get for staying up over twenty-four hours.” He grinned cheekily at Gwen and Freya, before turning back to Arthur. “Before I go, I'd be grateful to know how Anna is. She didn't fall under Eloise Blessed's spell again?” Wayne's comment was completely oblivious, yet he'd come closer to the truth than he realised.

 

“No, Ms Blessed couldn't hold her, though she did try to grab her a second time.” Arthur gave Wayne one of his most candid looks. “Anna's upstairs asleep. Dr Grayson believes we should let her rest as long as she needs, but you're welcome to visit her later, if you'd like.” He proffered his hand to Wayne. “She's safe... and, thanks to you, she's done nothing which would horrify her. I'm sure she'd be glad to see you again.”

 

“Thanks!” Wayne shook Arthur's hand. “I'll take you up on that invitation. I'd be more than happy to renew my friendship with Anna, but I'll get off now. It was good to meet you all... and if you don't mind me saying, it felt kinda meant... like fate?” Wayne chuckled with embarrassment. “Would you listen to me? I must be more tired than I thought. I'm rambling. Just forget I said that!”

 

Wayne ducked his head and almost scuttled from the room, leaving four very amused people behind him.

 

“Is he remembering?” Gwen was the first to voice the collective thought.

 

Merlin sighed. “I'm not sure... and, to tell the truth, I doubt recalling the past would be good for Wayne...”

 

“True, Merlin.” Arthur's mouth settled into a grim line. “I'm not certain I'd be happy realising the woman I love once tortured me and left me to die.”

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a quiet, catch up chapter, readying our friends for the trials ahead, but I hope I didn't bore you with no action. Thank you for staying with my story. You give me inspiration.


	36. In Dreams of Anna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ygraine visits Benedict. Matthew joins Arthur and Merlin for some investigating, while Gwen and Anna have a different conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased I've been able to keep to my schedule and hope you are enjoying a new installment each weekend. Thank you for continuing to stick with my story and for sending me kudos.

Chapter Thirty-six

 

In Dreams of Anna

 

All the house was quiet and still, though not unfriendly, the members of the household either working in the air-controlled cool of the conservatory, or dosing in comfortable chairs to replenish their energies which had been spent during a tempestuous night. One particular bedroom was shaded, keeping out the strong sunlight to allow the inhabitant to continue sleeping. But Arthur nor Merlin slept. Instead, they were quietly discussing future possibilities while waiting for Matthew to arrive with the results of his research into the topography of the west country.

 

Earlier, Dr Richard Grayson had checked on his patient, who he'd helped rescue the night before from a terrible and terrifying possession and, though his participation had been minor, he was happy to make it, knowing how badly he'd let this girl down in their previous lives.

 

Before he returned to his clinic at the hospital, he'd pronounced her in good health but suffering from total exhaustion. Ygraine had gone with him to visit her husband, though she was emotionally torn on how to divide her time between two much loved members of her family who needed her attention. Richard's pronouncement her daughter would probably sleep for most of the day and Arthur's promise to alert her if Anna did awake, persuaded her to make a quick trip to Benedict's bedside to assure him that all was well.

 

Indeed, it was a wise decision as she found him in a state of confusion and distress, wondering whether his daughter had visited him, or if he'd only imagined she'd been at his bedside. Thankfully, it hadn't registered in his damaged brain that Anna had tried to tamper with his IV drip, since he only wished to see her alive and well and teasing him as she normally did. At least, that was the gist of what Ygraine could determine from his faltering, jumbled speech.

 

Yet, it appeared some explanation was needed concerning Anna's absenteeism and Ygraine was grateful that Benedict wasn't aware of just how long his daughter had been missing. The elderly man had lost all track of time between the night of his seizure and the present day. Taking hold of her husband's rigid right hand, Ygraine traced the veins which stood out prominently on the back of a hand which had grown old and wrinkled almost overnight.

 

“You were right about Anna. She'd met someone in France... someone who has a slight acquaintance with Arthur and she got the scent of a story. You know how she gets when she's chasing down a scoop.” Ygraine looked up into Benedict's face and was surprised to see his blue-grey eyes were awash, yet whether he was crying or his eyes were just watering, she couldn't be sure. In contrast, there seemed a ghost of a smile on his frozen lips. Benedict had always been proud of Anna's tenacity. Even as a young child she never gave up, while Benedict encouraged her to follow her dreams.

 

Ygraine squeezed her husband's hand again and repressed her disappointment when he couldn't reciprocate. “Only this time she hit a dead end. Not every lead pans out, which Anna is experienced enough to accept. Now she's home, feeling just a bit down and fairly tired, but she'll visit you tomorrow.”

 

Again, Benedict's twisted mouth tried to form a grin and he mumbled something which could have been Anna's name. A dribble escaped from the corner of his lips, causing Ygraine to wipe away the saliva which ran down his chin. Her own eyes filled up and she quickly ducked her head. How could she endure Benedict's helpless state? He'd always been such a tower of strength, full of vital yet controlled energy. It broke her heart to see him this way.

 

Swallowing back the tears which threatened to fall, Ygraine gave a faint smile when she saw her husband drift back to sleep. At present, her eyes were like a bubbling brook! How she would have appreciated his help with their current problems... even as a listening board, but that, too, was totally out of the question. It was her turn to be Benedict's support and that of her family.

 

With a disparaging shake of her head at her shameless wobble, she rose from her chair, leaned over to kiss Benedict's cheek and returned to the fray.

 

 

*****

 

 

Back at the house, Matthew had arrived, bringing with him his laptop, his tablet as well as old-fashioned paper maps and, indeed, a few ancient parchment ones. Wherever had he found those?

 

The three had moved indoors to the dining room where they had space to spread their research over the large table.

 

“I'm impressed, Matthew,” Arthur said with a nod and a grin as he and Merlin unrolled an old, crinkled and somewhat brittle chart between them. It crackled alarmingly as they spread it out. “How the hell did you get your hands on this?”

 

“With great difficulty.” Matthew smiled, then his face settled into grave lines. “I've a friend who works in the Archive of the National Museum, so please be very careful with that one. It's the oldest. It shows the shires from the 10th century, so not as far back as your time and there isn't a lot of detail but, perhaps, we can match it up with later maps.”

 

Very warily -- he was afraid to touch it by hand -- Merlin uttered a spell which helped to keep the map flat and smooth. He received a smile of thanks from Arthur who leaned forward to study it more closely, pointing to the area around Somerset and the Bristol Channel, his finger hovering over the fragile surface. “Merlin and I think this is the area we're interested in.”

 

“Mmm... Are you sure?” Matthew asked, checking the spot before frowning in concentration. “There's a suggestion Cadbury Castle might be what we're looking for. After all, it was once called Camalet, but it's nearer to Yeovil in the south east of Somerset.”

 

Arthur looked thoughtful before shaking his head. “That doesn't tie in with Merlin's or my own calculations... or memories. From the things that happened... and the journeys we made, we believe it to be nearer the north coast and the Severn estuary.”

 

“It's a pity that there aren't more archaeological facts about your reign...” Matthew said, but was interrupted by a bark of laughter from Arthur.

 

“Facts? You are joking. Bloody hell! I've been reduced to a legend... or a myth even. It doesn't say much for what we achieved over a thousand and a half years ago, since it all disappeared into the mists of time.”

 

The younger man flushed red with embarrassment and shame. “That was probably my fault. If you'd lived your normal span perhaps you'd have left more tangible facts behind you.”

 

Arthur gave his employee a stern look. “Matthew, Merlin and I've already decided that we need to forget about those days and past transgressions. At least, where they impact on the present. Apart from Merlin here, none of us are quite the same as we once were and we're not forced to follow those same paths. We have a chance to make new choices in this life and, so far, you've been nothing but helpful.”

 

“I was that in Camelot too... until I betrayed you...”

 

“Doesn't mean to say you'll do that in this life,” Merlin put in, quickly. “We've talked of this before. Back then, you felt you had your reasons and neither I nor Arthur listened to your pleas, or tried to understand your heart-breaking predicament. For differing reasons. Arthur believed you were stricken only with puppy-love and would see his point of view eventually... and I'd been warned many times that you'd kill Arthur. I couldn't let myself like you or sympathise with you.”

 

“We were both wrong,” Arthur said, backing up his friend. “This time, neither of us have any intention of interfering with your love life. You're your own master.”

 

“But if I ever do meet another Kara and she were in cahoots with dark magic, I would resist her attractions... and give you the heads up, at least.”

 

“You know, Kara might be out there and there's no reason why she should be our enemy. After all, Arthur doesn't go around sentencing people to death these days.” Merlin laid a friendly hand on the shoulder of the man who still seemed to be having difficulty getting past the fact that he'd killed King Arthur.

 

“Neither does my father, so the problem shouldn't arise...” Arthur stayed silent for a moment as the fact that Morgause still hated the Penderels occurred to him. “On the other hand, knowing our luck, Kara might have found a new gripe... and you can't always choose who you fall in love with. Just be careful and, whatever happens, we promise to be more reasonable this time around.” Arthur gave Matthew a lopsided grin before getting back to business. “OK. Let's find Camelot.”

 

Matthew nodded more positively and returned his attention to his laptop. “You know, I've been giving this problem more thought and, because we have so few clues about Camelot's whereabouts, I thought we could come at this from a different angle.”

 

“Since we appear to be looking for a needle in a haystack, we're open to any suggestions,” Arthur muttered, gazing at the many maps both paper and digital, while Merlin grimaced in agreement.

 

Matthew paced a few steps away before turning, gripping his hands at his sides nervously. “You mentioned on the phone that you needed to find Sigan's tomb which is below The Citadel.”

 

“That's so,” Merlin answered, looking a little askance at Matthew. He hadn't realised that Arthur had divulged that part.

 

“Who is this Sigan... and...” Matthew paused again, gathering his thoughts, then plunged on, “Is there any connection to this modern day very hostile rivals to Camelot Industries, Sigan Fuels?”

 

Arthur and Merlin exchanged rueful glances. “See! I always said he was my most promising of young knights.” Arthur grinned as he turned back to address Matthew. “You'd be right in your assumption. In my first life, Cornelius Sigan was a sorcerer and he almost succeeded in destroying Camelot. In fact, in my completely unmindful way, you could say I helped him.”

 

“Not helped him!” Merlin objected. “You weren't to know Cedric was possessed.”

 

“But you did and I completely ignored your warnings -- I always did -- and gave Cedric a place of trust which enabled him to threaten Camelot.”

 

“Well, I did have inside information, which I wasn't brave enough to tell you about.”

 

“Much good that would have done you. I'd probably have denounced you to my father and you'd have been executed.”

 

“Would you really?” Merlin demanded, squaring up to Arthur, engaging his friend's honest gaze while his own had darkened.

 

There was another pause as Arthur thought over his feelings from long ago. Finally, he shrugged. “Probably not. From the beginning, I always knew there was something about you, Merlin, only I couldn't quite fathom out what. Magic wouldn't have been the first thing that leapt into my mind... but you'd already wormed your way into my friendship. I doubt I could have seen you killed... exiled maybe, but I hate to admit I would've missed you.”

 

“Even in those early days?” Merlin asked doubtfully.

 

“You were such a bad servant you amused me... and you were the only one who answered me back. That was a refreshing change. God, I'd have been saddled with a yes man like George!”

 

The two friends shared a wide grin, the cobalt blue of Arthur's eyes deepening, while Merlin's twinkled and the corners creased with genuine laughter.

 

Looking on, their little confrontation informed Matthew that he wasn't the only one who was allowing the past to interfere with the present, but it appeared that both Arthur and Merlin looked backwards with kindness and even joy. Perhaps it was time that he allowed himself to do the same. Matthew was snatched from his reverie by Arthur continuing to talk.

 

“But getting back to Cornelius Sigan, I'll let Merlin explain as he understands much more about him than I do.”

 

“Sigan had been a very talented sorcerer way back in the day when the Citadel was built, but he'd become too powerful, wanted much more than the ancient kings were willing to offer.” Merlin took a deep breath before continuing. “The long and short of the story was that he fought them, was defeated and his corpse was buried in a vault under Camelot. I've no idea why the powers that be decided that was a good thing.”

 

“Perhaps his followers did that in secret. I'm sure Sigan would have given them orders...”

 

“Possibly,” Merlin acceded. “Anyway, none of that's important. Come our time in Camelot, Uther ordered the caves to be excavated, exposing the tomb. Unfortunately, Sigan managed to possess a greedy sneak thief...”

 

“Cedric?” Matthew put in, following the tale with a great deal of interest. If it hadn't been for the urgency and the danger of their present situation, he would have been enthralled listening to all these reminiscences.

 

“Exactly! Cedric heard of the riches that had been uncovered and he wanted some of them for himself...”

 

“Only he got more than he bargained for,” Arthur interrupted, unable to keep quiet.

 

“He did. He saw the huge heart-shaped sapphire on the sarcophagus and thought to steal it...”

 

“Only, he didn't realise he was releasing Sigan's spirit...”

 

Merlin set his hands on his hips and threw Arthur another look of protest. “Who's telling this story?”

 

Arthur's head bent slightly to the side in apology. “You are!” Though he couldn't resist adding with a smirk. “Go on!”

 

“Thanks a bunch!” Merlin bowed his head in mock humility. “Sigan's spirit was encased in that stone and when it was extracted, his life-force flowed into Cedric, leaving behind a colourless heart of glass.” Merlin paused, wondering how deeply he should go into detail, and coming to the conclusion to be brief. “In the sake of getting to the point, I won't elaborate on the fight, but I did defeat Sigan and sent him back to the other world. Uther had the tomb blocked up with the strict decree that it never be opened again.”

 

“And Camelot was repaired and life went on,” Arthur finished, but suddenly another question came to mind, which had completely alluded him back in the day. “What happened to Cedric? Was he killed?”

 

“His body was never found. He certainly wasn't amongst the dead or injured.” Merlin contemplated with a slight lift of his shoulders. “I assume he woke up without any memories of being possessed and decided he should make himself scarce. At least, we never saw him in Camelot again.”

 

Another silence stretched out for a few moments as each deliberated over the ancient story until Matthew enquired again. “So we're really looking for this heart-shaped sapphire?”

 

“We are, only it will just be clear glass at present because Sigan has taken over another body,” Merlin said, his lips twisting anxiously.

 

“OK. It's a fantastic story and I wouldn't believe half of it if I didn't already know the truth,” Matthew admitted ruefully. “But you've omitted to tell me one thing. Who has Sigan possessed this time?”

 

Exchanging another glance of approval at Matthew's intellect -- clearly, he was a quick study -- Arthur chose to answer.

 

“Mark Cornwallis. The CEO of Sigan Fuels.”

 

Matthew nodded, a slight gleam beginning to light his eyes. “Am I right in saying that they're a fairly new business?”

 

“You are. In fact, from what I've learned of Cornwallis, he was a somewhat nondescript employee of an investment bank who suddenly developed some business acumen around five years ago. He left the bank and bought into a very small energy firm. Since then, he's led it to be one of our main competitors... and no one quite understands why.”

 

“You seem to know a lot about Cornwallis,” Merlin said with some grudging admiration.

 

“Hey, I'm not that idiot King Arthur who expected everything to drop into his lap. I do work for Camelot Industries and part of my job is to keep an eye on the competition, especially ones who appear to have a meteoric rise.”

 

“Could something have happened to Cornwallis five years ago?” Matthew pushed the discussion on.

 

Merlin's eyes were twinkling again. “Like finding an old tomb and being possessed by Sigan.”

 

“It would certainly explain the quick change in his character,” Arthur agreed, pouting, his hands straying over the old map, unconsciously hovering over Exmoor and the mark of a small incline. “And the very unusual speed of Sigan Fuels' success in the market.”

 

“Then, instead of looking for Camelot, perhaps we should be looking into what Cornwallis was doing five years ago before he changed personalities... and where he was doing it,” Merlin suggested, his long fingers stroking his chin.

 

“That's a walk in the park. Consider it done!” Matthew grinned broadly as the two others joined in. Strangely, an air of optimism had crept into their emerging comradeship.

 

*****

 

Upstairs, in her shaded bedroom, Anna slumbered on, pale of face with her dark hair coiled about her, stark on the white pillow case. The crisp cotton sheet was pulled up to her neck while a light quilt lay bundled close to the bottom of the bed and partly draped on the floor, testament to the heat of the day.

 

Her heavy-lashed lids fluttered haphazardly on her cheeks as the eyes behind moved frantically back and forth. Dreams filled her sleep... vivid, colourful, disturbing pictures spooled through her unconscious mind.

 

Anna forced herself awake, clawed her way back to awareness, back to the well-recognised, peaceful setting of her bedroom; a safe haven for all the formative years of her life. As she did so, the confusing images faded until they were lost in the deepest paths of her mind, unable to be recalled except in nightmares... perhaps.

 

Holding herself upright on shaking arms, Anna panted until her breathing slowed and she was able to look about her, at last. Waiting by her side, she spotted an anxious Gwen sitting in her favourite wicker chair.

 

“Are you OK?” Gwen asked, a worried frown drawing her brows together.

 

Anna gave herself a few more seconds before she answered. “Yes. I am now. I think I had a horrible dream, only I can't even remember what I was dreaming about.” As she became more cognizant, she noticed her friend's skin had blanched and Gwen's hands gripped the arms of the chair. “Was I talking in my sleep or something. You look really upset.”

 

“No! No. I was just a bit concerned about you. I mean, you've been through a lot recently, being kidnapped and all. Are you sure you're fine? You don't remember anything? Anything at all of your dream... or anything else?” Gwen couldn't resist fishing.

 

Again, Anna examined her memory before she answered, “Definitely not. My mind's a complete blank. I doubt it could've been anything too important though...”

 

“Being abducted isn't exactly a small thing!” Gwen cut in, her voice sharper than her normal dulcet tone.

 

“Perhaps not. But this was just a stupid dream.” She smiled brightly to reassure Gwen she was feeling better and stretched her arms above her head. “What time is it? I feel I've been asleep for ages. In fact, I've hardly done anything else since I came home.”

 

“You were kept in a drugged state for a few days,” Gwen pointed out, clasping her hands together to prevent them from shredding the wicker seat. Her palms felt unusually clammy. She'd been where Anna was now, but she'd committed more wicked crimes. Thankfully, even if Anna did remember the happenings of the last few days, she hadn't killed anyone. “It's no wonder you're sleepy.”

 

This time, Anna frowned. She wasn't a journalist for nothing. “But why would Eloise Blessed capture me and drug me? She didn't want or need a ransom. I checked her out before I went to meet her -- I always do perspective clients -- her balance sheets are more than healthy.”

 

Trying to hide her anxiety, Gwen took a few seconds to answer. Just how much could she tell Anna without alerting her to the long distant past? “Arthur's theory is probably the most promising.” Anna's eyebrows rose in question causing Gwen to swallow, offer Arthur a silent apology if he should decide she'd acted in error, and plunge into an explanation. “He believes Eloise has an accomplice, someone who wants to bring Camelot Industries down. You were targeted to keep us off balance.”

 

There was another lengthy pause as Anna pushed back the covers and slid over to the edge of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She leaned forward to take Gwen's hands, surprised to find them trembling slightly. “I'm sorry, Gwen. I know this has probably been told to me before, but these last few days since I've been home seem a bit of a haze to me. You say I was drugged, so I expect that's why.” She gave a tiny tremulous laugh. “I mean, part of me still thinks Eloise wanted to hire me as a journalist, but I guess that's totally untrue.” She looked at their linked hands. Once again, she felt the closeness which had grown between herself and Gwen since Arthur had introduced them when they were students. Somehow the ties had loosened in the hectic bustle of their professional lives. Glancing up, she was happy to see that same deep bond reflected in Gwen's brown eyes. “Arthur's theory? Will you explain that again?”

 

Here, at least, Gwen felt on solid ground. Telling Anna about Sigan Fuels was probably a safe topic. It would only be when the subject turned to Sigan himself that she might risk triggering Anna's memory. Gwen decided to leave that part of the story to Merlin, Arthur, or perhaps Ygraine.

 

“Camelot Industries has come under attack by a new competitor, who's not above using devious, complex and downright lies to gain an advantage...”

 

“They didn't hurt my father?” Anna's question came at Gwen like quicksilver, sharp, uneasy and not totally devoid of fear.

 

“No! Definitely not.” Actually, Gwen and the others had wondered about that, but neither Merlin nor Richard could find any proof that Benedict's illness was triggered by magic. She was able to speak with some conviction. “Anna, your father had a massive stroke. In this house. No one provoked it.”

 

Anna stood up and walked to her dressing table where she stared into the mirror. “Thank God for that... though that's hardly an appropriate response. I'd prefer it had never happened, but I guess we can't order our lives. Fate always takes a hand... and Mum's been telling him for ages now that he works too hard... that he ought to slow down and hand some more responsibility over to Arthur.” She toyed with the jewellery box on the table. “But that's not Daddy.”

 

“I think he'll have to hand over the reins of Camelot now.” Gwen rose and walked closer to her friend. “Anna, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but your father's prognosis isn't great... but he will live and you'll all have a chance to spoil him and make him happy.”

 

Anna's laugh was a little hysterical. “Oh, he'll hate that. He likes to be in charge... even when it comes to giving gifts. He never lets Mum choose, which is why I end up with something totally ridiculous like this. Look. Is this something you'd see me pick? But he does mean well. Oh, Daddy. I did actually wear it once, just for his sake...” Tears glittered in her eyes as a heavily ornate diamond pendant trickled through her fingers before she turned, giving herself a mental shake. “But you're right. We should be grateful he's alive. Now tell me all about this unscrupulous rival. I'm a reporter... and I'm home. I want to help save my family.”

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this slightly shorter chapter. Thanks for reading.


	37. In Search of Sigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a review of the last few days for our friends as well as for you the reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a couple of days earlier this week because I have some time to spare and will be busy over the weekend. Again, you have my thanks for continuing to read. It's nice to know I have readers out there who seem to be waiting for each weekly installment.
> 
> There is some telepathic conversation in this chapter and is shown in italics, as usual.

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 

In Search of Sigan

 

Since Arthur and Gwen clearly wanted to spend most of their time together, Matthew was ensconced in the library deep in his research and Ygraine had not yet returned from the hospital, Merlin found himself alone and at a loose end. He wandered out into the garden, much treasured by the mistress of the Citadel, across the terrace, down through the herbaceous borders where the high blooming delphiniums waved blues and purples in the shifting air, while colourful phlox and asters clung to their ankles. Bees hummed in the quiet, peaceful area, though the occasional thrum of traffic, hardly obtrusive, could be heard if one chose to listen.

 

Thankfully, the sky was strewn with powder-puff clouds which gave some shelter from the relentless sun. Merlin walked on till he reached the bench by the pond and took a seat, gazing into the waters to catch a glimpse of the koi carp, their rainbow colours hidden in the shadows of the exotic water plants. He felt curiously distant.

 

Merlin was happy for Arthur and Gwen, but continually seeing them as a couple triggered his loneliness. He missed Freya and the fact that she would soon be here with him in Cardiff didn't seem to appease this feeling of isolation. Immortality had meant being alone. He didn't want to live like that any longer, but neither did he want to die, thus his future face-off with Sigan weighed heavily on his mind. Finding Freya and his friends again had made him more vulnerable than ever before. Now he had too much to loose... yet he wouldn't change things for the world.

 

“Hello, Rhys.” A woman's voice came from behind him, yet not the lady he'd been thinking of. Dark haired and fine drawn with a hint of bravado, but lacking Freya's warm sparkle, Anna came around the edge of the garden seat. “Do you mind if I join you?”

 

“Please!” Merlin gestured with his hand as he gave Anna a cautious smile. “It's your garden. I'm the intruder.”

 

“I would hardly call you that. You're a guest, or maybe more than that,” Anna said thoughtfully. “You and Arthur seem very close and yet... I've never heard him mention you before. Normally, Arthur doesn't make friends easily and I can't help but wonder why you.”

 

Merlin's eyebrows climbed in surprised amusement. “Is this the third degree?”

 

“Not exactly.” Anna laughed, brushing her hair back from her face. “Arthur is old enough and smart enough to look after himself, but he's my brother and, though we don't often show it, we do care.”

 

“I know that. I witnessed how much Arthur was worried when you were missing.”

 

“And he sent you to find me. I'm fairly confused about the last few days, but I do remember you and Wayne breaking me out of that old house. I'm extremely grateful.”

 

Beginning to relax again, Merlin replied with a grin, “I was happy to help and, although I can't speak for Wayne, I believe he would have taken Paris apart to find you.”

 

Anna squinted up at the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun's glow. “I must remember to thank him personally, too.” They sat in companionable silence for some moments until Anna returned to her inquest. “I'm told you're a geologist who works for Arthur.”

 

“That's true. I usually spend most of my time in the lab, but I was sent to discover if Camelot Industries was responsible for the water disturbances on Easdale and that's where I met your brother.”

 

“And you became mates straight off?” Anna narrowed her eyes at this thin young man who looked like he might be blown away by even a mild wind. Yet, as a photo-journalist Anna was trained to see beneath the exterior and she suspected this man's wiry frame hid a core of calm, mental strength.

 

“I would hardly call it 'love' at first sight,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “but yes, we discovered pretty quickly that we got along. We certainly found we had a common goal...”

 

“And mutual enemies?” Anna didn't know quite where her question had sprung from.

 

“Why shouldn't we? I do work for Camelot Industries. What hurts them affects me.”

  
  


Anna drew her hand backwards and forward along the worn wooden arm of the bench, still studying Arthur's new friend carefully. “Have we ever met before, Rhys? I mean before Paris. You seem weirdly familiar.”

 

Internally, Merlin gulped. Anna was just as smart and resourceful as Morgana. Perhaps it wouldn't be feasible to keep her in the dark about reincarnation, or Morgause and Sigan. He forced his voice to remain neutral as he answered, “I don't think so. In fact, I doubt we've ever met. Anna, your life has been very different from mine. We just wouldn't have mixed in the same circles.”

 

“I'm not a snob!” Anna sounded indignant, yet a tinge of humour tempered her voice. “Much less than Arthur anyway.”

 

“You find Arthur condescending?” Merlin was surprised. He was well aware of his friend's high-flying life style and he wasn't above ribbing Arthur about it, yet he hadn't found him supercilious this time around. In fact, even as a King he'd cared more for the lot of the common people than his father or many others in that sovereign role.

 

Anna shrugged, before admitting somewhat reluctantly, “No, not really... though he can climb on his high horse every now and then... especially if he thinks I'm doing something out of order. His friends seem to like him well enough.”

 

“Well, I'm his friend and I hope you'll think of me in that light too. After all, I did help rescue you.”

 

“Isn't there an ancient adage that says my life now belongs to you?” Anna cocked her head, grinning impishly.

 

Merlin joined in her laughter. “I think that might be an old wife's tale... or an American Indian custom... or both. I don't think it applies to the digital age. Besides, if you want to be beholden to anyone it should be Wayne. I only heard you scream. He broke the door down to get you out.”

 

A slow, genuine smile spread across Anna's face. “Wayne always was a good guy to rely on. I must find some particular way to thank him... but you don't know me very well if you think I'll feel beholden to anyone.”

 

“I thought we were joking! I never doubted your independence.” Merlin held out his hands palm upwards. “We don't know each other at all.” The voice inside his head added... _'not in this life.'_ He quickly stilled it, not knowing what might trigger Anna's latent magic powers. “But Arthur is my friend and he loves you, so I'm hoping we might get to like each other for his sake.”

 

Anna gave him another long stare. “There's something quite unusual about you, Rhys, which I can't quite put my finger on, however, I'm willing to trust you as long as you've my family's best interests at heart.”

 

“In that case, I think we'll work well together.”

 

Fortunately, Merlin was relieved of continuing this unexpected and difficult conversation by the arrival of the one person he wanted to see more than any other. Freya had arrived with Drew and Fiona, all of them happy and triumphant because of their success in silencing Ms Grunn.

 

Of course, that led onto yet another uneasy talk with Anna. A chat full of evasions and half-truths about how exactly the personal accusations by Ms Grunn and Leonard Cameron against Arthur had been refuted; the former by the unexplained disappearance of the Head of the Planning Committee and the latter by Mr Cameron realising that the guy who'd offered him a bribe had been an imposter. However, Merlin was mostly on the sidelines for that exchange as Drew, Fiona and Freya explained what was possible about the happenings in Bearsden.

 

Later, the members of the household had gathered in the drawing room to discuss the current state of play. Ygraine, having returned from visiting Benedict, had invited them all to a 'round table' conference; the group included all the remaining family members, the recently arrived Scottish contingent and Matthew.

 

Ushering Fiona into a large comfortable chintz chair, Ygraine took time to gather her thoughts as she sat slowly in her own armchair. Gwen and Freya, already on the way to becoming fast friends, took a seat on the sofa side-by-side while their significant others ranged themselves opposite, standing before the open inglenook. Matthew looked around and chose a straight-backed chair next to an occasional table where he laid his trusty tablet, dusting off some tiny flecks of pollen which had fallen from the vase of blowzy roses occupying the table top.

 

Drew and Anna decided to stand, he rather inconspicuously by the window, while Anna chose the challenging centre stage. She sensed a mystery, a conspiracy of silence, albeit a benign one, and she loved it. Mysteries were her thing and she was very good at solving them.

 

Meanwhile, a part anxious, part amused frisson passed through Ygraine, and, after giving an update on her husband's condition which concerned his children greatly, she turned to her daughter. Unaware of the earlier short confrontation between Anna and Merlin, yet understanding Anna's tenacious streak of curiosity, she accepted that Anna would demand some explanation of what had happened while she'd been gone.

 

“Have you got any questions you'd like to put to Arthur, or the rest of us, Anna?”

 

Giving her mother a quick glance of acknowledgement and approval, Anna spoke. “I do, Mum. You know me too well, though, right now, I'm sure Arthur is wishing I weren't quite so inquisitive.”

 

And indeed, Anna was right in her reading of her brother's thoughts. He reverted to mind talk. _“Mum! What are you doing? I thought we'd agreed to keep Anna in the dark...”_

 

“ _About Morgause and Ariahrhod... and reincarnation, but I doubt Anna will be so easily diverted about the threat to Camelot.”_ Ygraine looked warningly at her son.

 

“ _Your mother's right. Anna's already tried to give me the third degree in a small way,”_ Merlin hissed into Arthur's brain. _“We have to tell her something about what's happening otherwise she'll go off and investigate on her own and I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not sure that talking telepathically is a good thing either. You know Anna has the gift. Just because she's not aware of it doesn't mean she won't be able to hear something.”_

 

Arthur's mouth twisted in a pout of disagreement, before he gave in and addressed Anna. “OK, Sis. Fire away! Do you have any questions?”

 

“I want to know what Sigan Fuels is up to. I have got the name right? And I want to know what you're doing to combat its efforts to bring down our firm!” Anna said, squaring up to her brother. “Gwen's already told me a little about it, but the last I knew was that we were being blamed for those strange water spouts somewhere in Scotland.”

 

“Not anymore! Rhys managed to clear us completely of that charge. He took samples of the waters and found someone had managed to contaminate those ponds with chemicals which appeared to have created some pre-volcanic markers.”

 

“Is that possible?” Anna's question came at Arthur and Rhys with the speed of a bullet.

 

“It is.” Merlin chose to fill the slight silence which had followed. “Along with the odd... gadget.”

 

“Gadget?” Anna's arched brows rose.

 

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, trying to sound composed. “You know, compressed air cylinders. That sort of thing. Together they created quite a spectacle.” He rushed on, hoping to forestall more needling queries from his sister. “The main thing is that we could disprove the allegation that the chemicals were leaking from our Bearsden Plant and we could hardly have a motive for creating the turbulent waters with toys and various concoctions. If we'd been guilty, we'd have done our best to cover up any manifestations.”

 

“I guess,” Anna admitted grudgingly, but mostly because she'd have loved to be the one to uncover that sort of fraud. However, that didn't mean there wasn't something she could look into. “Gwen mentioned you suspect Sigan Fuels might be responsible for these war games. Any particular reason why?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Arthur answered with a good deal of conviction. “Because they're the new players on the scene. Our other competitors have been around for as long as we have and, apart from the usual one-upmanship, none of them have attempted any of the outlandish shenanigans this lot employ.”

 

“And the CEO did rent a cabin cruiser at the end of April. He's hired it for an indefinite period and it's now moored in a marina in Poole,” Matthew interrupted, still a little hesitantly, as if he were over-awed by the company.

 

“Why didn't you didn't tell us?”

 

“And why is that significant?”

 

Arthur's edgy demand came on top of Anna's analytical one and left Matthew looking even more uncomfortable.

 

“Because a group of people arrived by boat on Easdale shortly before the problems with the water started,” Merlin explained, hoping to draw Arthur's fire off Matthew and to satisfy Anna's curiosity. “People whom the locals thought looked out of place... not from your usual yachting fraternity, nor your normal tourist.”

 

“And you happen to know it was this particular boat?” Anna asked more kindly than her brother, giving the young man a chance to regain his equilibrium.

 

“Yes. These hired boats have a GPS system which allows them to be tracked, supposedly for safety purposes, but it also comes in handy if you want to follow someone's trail. Mind you, I can't say for certain Cornwallis made that trip, but his yacht did. It's visited those islands twice. Once in late Spring and again in June,” Matthew replied, glancing between the siblings. “And I didn't tell you because I've just found out. As we agreed, I only started investigating Cornwallis's record earlier today.”

 

“Sorry, Matthew. The past few days have been intense, but I shouldn't have snapped at you.” Arthur's apology was accompanied by one of his flashing smiles and, if this one appeared somewhat weary, it only made him seem more genuine. “Actually, I'm surprised by how well you've done in such a short space of time.”

 

“Arthur, I'm hoping the visit in June was the one when a woman was a member of the party,” Merlin suggested, before turning to the lady who was following the conversation with the concentration of a wise old owl. “Fiona, is that possible? Otherwise, Sigan has had an accomplice for longer than we suspected.”

 

“My boy, it very well could be.” Fiona laughed, a little self-deprecating and also at the irony of calling a man of Merlin's great age a boy. “My memory isn't as good as it once was... I can hardly remember what I had for dinner yesterday!” Which was, of course, an exaggeration, but her tiny detour into humour relieved the tension for a second or two and everyone smiled.

 

Merlin, however, was warming to his theme. “That woman matched the description of Eleanor Blessed.”

 

“They know each other?” Again, Anna's retort was sharp and incisive but purely professional.

 

“We don't know for sure,” Arthur admitted, lines appearing in his brow. “But we think they might be working together. It would make sense.”

 

“Arthur, I think we can prove they are acquainted.” Matthew drew all eyes back to him as he powered up his trusty tablet, the one he never seemed to be without. “Since I'm trying to track Cornwallis, I decided to add a search for Ms Blessed too... and this turned up.” He offered the pad to Arthur and Merlin, who were standing close together in front of the fireplace. Arthur took it and began scrolling through what were clearly press photos.

 

“You're looking at some still pictures of a banquet at the Mansion House in London and there are a few of Mark and Eleanor together,” Matthew explained. Now that he was embarked on his favourite hobby horse of research, his voice took on a more positive note. “Also, if you click on the video link, you'll see some footage of your parents. If you look closely at the background, you'll spot Cornwallis and Blessed paying them quite a lot of interest.”

 

Arthur's eyes narrowed, as he handed the tablet to Merlin. “These were taken at the Lord Mayor's Banquet... so they would know each other in June. Time enough for them to turn up in a boat on Easdale?”

 

“But surely the waters were acting up before that time?” Gwen asked. She too was thinking, calculating.

 

“Yes! But Matthew has just told us the yacht was there twice, if that tracking device can be trusted,” Merlin said, passing the device with its damning photos and video to Anna.

 

“Oh, they're accurate, particularly the latest versions.” Drew, who'd been standing silent in the bay window like a guard on security duty, finally joined the conversation. “Where I come from they use them a lot to trace yachts which have strayed off course. Mind you, you can disable the GPS, but it seems Cornwallis never thought of that.”

 

“So what, Rhys? Are you suggesting they went once to set up the whole show and went back in June to check on how it was doing? If you remember, we were there in June taking samples from the waters.” Arthur still didn't look convinced and he'd clenched his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting.

 

“Sounds feasible, especially if he knew you'd begun testing... or maybe Cornwallis just wanted to show off his pyrotechnics to his new co-conspirator,” Anna mused, her instincts beginning to get a feel for a story. “It's what I would have insisted upon if I were Eleanor and joining forces with someone I didn't know.”

 

“You believe all this?” Arthur said in shock. Normally his sister would argue with him for hours before she saw things from his point of view... and sometimes she never agreed. In this case, even he admitted their evidence was pretty sketchy.

 

Anna's shoulders lifted in an almost imperceptible shrug. “Let's just say I have a gut feeling...”

 

“Like Merlin!” Arthur blurted out.

 

“What?” Anna asked, pouncing on his mistake, which Gwen hurried to correct.

 

“Oh, it's a joke. We've taken to calling them Arthur and Merlin since they've been thick as thieves since this whole thing began.”

 

Anna laughed heartily, looking at the two men standing rather sheepishly in front of the mantelpiece. “Good one, Gwen! I like it. Arthur's always been lacking a sidekick.” But she quickly settled down and returned to the business at hand, deciding a seasoned reporter should actually take charge of this investigation. She set her sights on Matthew. “Remind me! Who are you and what your role is here?”

 

Immediately, Arthur stepped forward, placing himself between Anna and her quarry. He knew what it was like to be the focus of his sister's laser-like attention. “Anna, this is Matthew Davidson. He's a researcher in IT for Camelot Industries and he's very good at his job. He's also working for me, so quit the bullying tactics. He's already on Cornwallis' trail.”

 

“Good! And I'm sure he'd appreciate some professional help,” Anna said, smiling sweetly at her brother. “I am an award-winning reporter.”

 

“I know! You never let us forget it.” Arthur smirked sarcastically back at Anna, while his quick brain was considering how to get her off the case. “So, doesn't it follow that it's a waste of resources to have our best people chasing down the same leads? Why don't you leave us with Cornwallis and start investigating Eloise. If they're working together, she should be under our spotlight too, and she seems to be just as dangerous... more perhaps.”

 

“ _Arthur, what are you doing?”_ Merlin's worried voice sounded loud in Arthur's ear. _“You're sending her straight into the line of fire again... and she could remember her past if she comes in contact with Morgause too often.”_

 

“ _We can't work if she's sitting on our shoulder. Believe me, I know my sister, she'll interfere and you've already inferred that sending Sigan back to the netherworld is our top priority.”_

 

Totally unaware of the frantic conversation taking place between her brother and his friend, Anna gave Arthur's suggestion some thought before replying. “Actually, you're right in this case, dear brother. I do have a personal bone to pick with Ms Blessed...”

 

The distinct warbling of her smart phone alerted Anna. Fishing it from her pocket, she glanced at the screen, hit the answer icon and marched over to a far corner of the room. Facing the wall, she held a whispered conversation while the others waited apprehensively. Anna could be a loose cannon which could blow their investigations apart and lead to her remembering who she'd been and what she'd done. Neither of those scenarios were welcome. They waited in silence.

 

Suddenly, Anna turned, her face transformed by a happy, somewhat sexy smile. “That was Wayne. You must have convinced him that Eloise Blessed is still a threat to my safety. He's been trying to track her down, but she seems to have disappeared. He's suggested we join forces and he's asked me to dinner to discuss tactics...” With a mercurial change of mood, Anna continued. “Sorry, guys, but I'll have to leave you. I'm off to get ready for my 'date' and I'll let you find proof against Sigan. Bye everyone... Drew, it was really good to see you again and we'll have to catch up when all this is finished. To those of you I don't know, it was nice to meet you... and ditto! We can all have a long chat later.”

 

With those last words, she left the room, leaving them all to heave a sigh of relief. Anna was a tempestuous force of nature!

 

“Thank God for Wayne,” Arthur commented, his feeling heartfelt. “And thank God Anna still fancies him, otherwise we'd never have been able to distract her.”

 

“I don't think Wayne's the only one we should be grateful to,” Ygraine said, at last, her hands gripped tight in her lap. “I'm sure The White Goddess took a hand in diverting Anna. She understands how important it is to stop her regaining her memory at the moment, both for herself and for her relationship with Wayne.”

 

Arthur cocked his head at his mother. “You believe Wayne was channelling The White Goddess?”

 

“It makes sense,” Merlin answered. “I doubt we've seen the last of The Goddess... or of Morgause. Though we left her at Arianrhod, we've no idea where she is now. I'm hoping she's still under The Goddess's care and Wayne and Anna are on a wild goose chase.”

 

“At least we can continue our research in peace.” Arthur turned to Matthew. “Thanks for what you've already discovered, but do you know what Cornwallis was doing five years ago?”

 

Matthew shook his head unhappily. “I'm sorry. Not yet. That's going to take more time, but I'll get there. Don't stress!”

 

“But not right at this moment,” Ygraine said, getting up from her seat. “Anna's dinner arrangements are sorted, but we all need to eat. Most of you know I'm not the best of cooks, but I'm sure I can throw something together for us.”

 

Fiona, too, stood up. “Mrs Penderel, if you don't mind, I could give you a hand in the kitchen.”

 

“Would you? Your help would be most welcome.” Ygraine offered the older woman a gracious smile. “And please, call me Ygraine... The kitchen is this way.”

 

The younger women made to follow, but Ygraine had different ideas. “No! Stay.” She turned in the doorway. “Freya, you've just come from Argyll and I can see Merlin is desperate to talk to you.” Again she smiled, beneficent. “I wouldn't deprive him of his pleasure, my dear... and, as my son and Gwen are joined at the hip, I've no doubt they'll find some way to amuse themselves. Matthew, put that computer away for now. If you and Drew will come to the kitchen, I'm sure we have some cold beer in the fridge. Why don't you both go out to the conservatory, relax with a beer and compare notes... on this life or the last. We'll call you all when dinner is ready.”

 

Having deployed her loved ones satisfactorily, Ygraine took Fiona's arm and, sharing a grin, they went off to prepare the food. No doubt, they too would be comparing notes.

 

0000000000

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the same thought each time I post that I don't disappoint you. There's not so much action in this chapter, but I felt our characters needed some relaxation and time to think over what they've discovered so far.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts if you've time to comment.


	38. Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Camelot been discovered at last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our friends split up to discover their adversaries but no one is sure or enthusiastic about what they'll find.
> 
> Thank you very much to the readers who left kudos and for commenting. You make me feel special.

 

Chapter Thirty-eight

 

Omens

 

 

Arthur, Gwen and Drew called at the hospital after dinner and there met up with Anna and Wayne on a similar errand of mercy. The recognised visiting hours were over, but Richard was still on the ward, having just checked on Benedict's progress and he gave Arthur and Anna permission to visit their father. The others would have to wait for them in the family room.

 

At his door, both found themselves pausing apprehensively, Arthur still a little unsure of Anna's total redemption and Anna, since her visits to her father had been brief and infrequent, was still suffering the shock and upset of seeing Benedict laid so low. With a lopsided grin, Arthur took hold of her hand and the siblings went inside together.

 

Left behind in the waiting room, Drew and Wayne eyed each other up somewhat calculatingly, two testosterone driven young men, but only one who knew the secrets of the past. However, on face value, both decided they liked what they saw, since they shook each other's hands firmly enough when Gwen made the introductions.

 

Afterwards, Wayne opened up the conversation by remarking evenly, “Anna certainly seems like her old self. I don't think she's going to give Arthur any problems, leastwise, not in there with Benedict.” He folded his arms and directed his next, fairly confrontational question at Gwen which caused Drew to bridle again. “What did you do to her?”

 

Still, this Gwen, just like her previous version, wasn't in need of anyone's help to fight her battles and she quickly launched upon the story they'd already agreed to give those who were not party to the truth. “Me? I never did anything personally, except be her friend... but Dr Grayson gave her some... medicine which counter-acted the drugs that had been used in the brainwashing. They took sometime to work and it wasn't always pleasant, but with the help of Ygraine and the people who love her, Anna came through it all. She's a very determined person, you know.”

 

“I'm well aware of that, so I'm thinking she might not be as sure of this situation as she's pretending. It's very seldom Anna suggests a shared a byline.”

 

“I thought Anna said you'd offered her a share of the scoop... if there is one,” Gwen said thoughtfully. Was it possible Anna was wary of facing Eloise again? She wouldn't blame her if that were so... and, if that were the case, then Wayne would be a supportive and competent partner.

 

“Well, I did kinda mention it, but I was blown away when she jumped at the offer.”

 

Gwen bit at her lip realising she was skating on thin ice again. “I think Anna's chasing down this Eloise for personal reasons. If you're planning on helping her, then I think it's only fair to warn you that Ms Blessed, or Morgause as she's known on the Web, is a very dangerous adversary...”

 

“I believe I've already got that message,” Wayne interrupted. “The fact that she held Anna against her will and brainwashed her makes Eloise an evil witch, in my opinion. But don't worry, I'm not a fool and I am good at my job of outing criminals. I'm also pretty decent at taking care of myself and my partners. I know you're worried for your friend, but don't be.” He gave her a wide grin and a wink. “We'll be just fine... and we'll find this Blessed woman and bring her to book.”

 

Back in Benedict's room, both Anna and Arthur assumed their father was sleeping, so they walked quietly towards the bed and stood in silence looking down on their once powerful parent.

 

“He looks so frail and so much older,” Anna remarked in a whisper. “Arthur, I'm afraid for him.”

 

“It's very early days, Anna. Dr Richard tells me he's made quite a lot of progress already. He's going to get better.” Yet there was no enthusiasm in Arthur's voice. Instead he sounded resigned, as if he didn't believe those platitudes either.

 

“I hope so.” Anna's voice broke on a quiet sob. “For our sake... and his own. He won't take kindly to being disabled.”

 

“I know.” Arthur wrapped his arm around his sister, who looked uncommonly vulnerable. “We can only wait and see what happens. Perhaps the doctors are right and we shouldn't despair.” In fact, a glimmer of hope was locked in the back of Arthur's mind.

 

Merlin had promised to use his magic to help Benedict, but he had added a word of caution. Healing spells were never one of his strengths, though Arthur now knew that the ancient sorcerer, Dragoon the Great, had managed to heal his father's heart and it was only Morgana's intervention which had killed Uther. Then too, Merlin had been quick to point out that healing a single knife wound to a heart was a hell of a lot easier than repairing a considerably damaged brain. Reversing the injury completely might be beyond magic's powers. Besides, they had to go carefully in this day and age not to enact a miracle cure, which would be subject to the closest scrutiny. The last thing Arthur wished to do was turn a spotlight on Rhys Wilson.

 

Arthur cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his sister. “One thing I do know is that Dad won't give up. He'll fight to regain whatever health he can.”

 

Tears spilled down Anna's cheeks as she turned her head into Arthur's shoulder. “I know that too... but I just wish I'd been here before he took ill.”

 

“You're here now, Sis, and that's what counts.”

 

The man in the bed became aware of the whispered voices coming from over his head. Somewhere in his confused mind he recognised both. He opened his mouth to call their names and was dismayed when his voice refused to co-operate with his brain as only a long drawn out groan ensued. Yet it was enough to alert his children.

 

“Daddy!” Anna said, gently, swallowing her tears. She cupped his curled fingers with her own two hands. “I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you fell ill... but I promise to help you get well... and I won't let anyone hurt our family ever again.”

 

*****

 

The next morning broke unexpectedly dull with swollen black clouds hanging low over Cyneod Road as if they were sullenly awaiting the accompaniment of thunder before they let loose their deluge on the slate roofs below. It seemed as if the extraordinary sultry weather might be about to end.

 

Shortly after ten, Arthur heaved a sigh of relief as he stood in the doorway and watched his sister drive off with Wayne. Unlike most elegant young women, when Anna was working she went off with the minimum amount of luggage. In fact, she carried only a specialised rucksack which held her precious cameras and lenses, the tools of her trade, while her few clothes were crammed into a backpack.

 

“I suppose I should be thankful they've gone, yet I can't help but feel uneasy. I know it was my suggestion in the first place, but what if we've sent them out of the frying pan straight into the fire.”

 

Merlin stepped up to Arthur's shoulder. “Why? They're on their way to Paris to try to find Eloise and we know she's not there.”

 

“Do we?” Arthur gave his friend a searching glance before turning back indoors. “Do we actually know where Morgause is?”

 

Following quickly, Merlin tried to reassure Arthur, yet even he had no concrete answer. “We left her at Arianrhod in the care of The White Goddess...”

 

“But is she still there?” Arthur threw the sharp question over his shoulder as he pushed his way into the library which was fast becoming their war-room. “We have no idea, Merlin. We left her unconscious with The Goddess... but she was still alive.” He swung round to face Merlin, his brow furrowed. “I know the Goddess helped us, but she wouldn't let you harm Morgause either. Not that I'm saying you would have done. You're not a killer. But she wouldn't have let anyone of us destroy Morgause. Perhaps it's her task to protect anybody who believes in The Old Religion.”

 

“And Morgause was... probably still is a High Priestess. I believe The Goddess's actual words were that she would take charge of Morgause for the moment... which doesn't sound exactly permanent,” Merlin granted grudgingly as he stood, leaning his arms along the high back of Benedict's armchair. “I wish I could be more reassuring, Arthur, but I don't know much about The Old Religion, to tell the truth.”

 

“Yet you have magic?”

 

“Yes! I always have. I was born with it,” Merlin said, his knuckles white as he clasped the headrest of the seat. Making that stark declaration again after all these years was still daunting. He half expected Arthur to repudiate him once more, which was a crazy thought. His friend had accepted him just as he was and it was only tiredness and his frayed nerves which undermined his confidence. He coughed to clear his throat and his mind and continued, “But apart from an ancient book of spells which Gaius gave me when I arrived in Camelot, I was never taught. And, as far as The Isle of the Blessed is concerned, I've only been there three times.”

 

“That's twice more than I!” Arthur grunted rather shocked. “When were the other visits? After I died?”

 

“No! Why in the world would I go back there. The other times were much earlier. When you were bitten by the Questing Beast, I went to see Nimueh there to ask her to save your life.”

 

“Nimueh saved my life?” Arthur sat heavily down in a chair behind him.

 

“Hardly voluntarily... but she did as I asked.” Merlin paused, looking anywhere in the room except at Arthur. “She gave me water from the Cup of Life and told me if you drank it you would be saved... but that someone else would have to die. That old thing about the restoring the balance of nature...”

 

“Who died?”

 

“I was willing to sacrifice my own life, but I found out things didn't work that way... just like Uther did. My mother was struck down by a terrible sickness.” Merlin came round and slipped boneless into the armchair, leaning his arms on his knees. “I couldn't accept that, so I went back to the Isle and challenged Nimueh to change her target. We fought, she died and I take it the balance was restored because my mother was saved... and Gaius.”

 

“Gaius?” Arthur was totally confused by this addition to the conversation.

 

“Yes! Gaius had decided to go and offer his own life in return for my mother's or mine.”

 

“I hadn't realised you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for me so early on in our association.”

 

“Actually, I couldn't quite believe it myself. Anyway, it doesn't matter now.” Merlin sat back and gave Arthur a lopsided grin. “But those were the only times I went anywhere near that island until we all went to repair the veil when the Dorocha escaped. Believe me, the Isle hadn't fared well in the intervening years. I mean, it was pretty much a ruin when Nimueh lived on it, but at least it had some grass and plants.”

 

“Do you think there could still be an Isle of The Blessed? Maybe that's where The White Goddess has taken Morgause.”

 

“Could be. Though I'm not sure The Goddess can move far from Arianrhod. Arthur, the one person who taught me the little I do know about The Old Religion was Gaius...”

 

“And he's long gone.” Arthur looked up, his eyes alight. “Do you think Richard remembers much of his past life?”

 

Merlin shook his head and shrugged. “I've no idea. I suppose we could ask him. Only, shouldn't we be concentrating on finding Camelot and getting rid of Sigan?”

 

Suddenly, Arthur clapped his hands together, looking mightily pleased with himself. “That's it, Merlin! Fiona! We can still do that but we ask Fiona to talk with Richard -- they probably want to catch up anyway. In Camelot days, Alice probably knew as much as Gaius, plus she remembers a lot about magic. We could ask them to put their heads together to work out where Morgause has gone and if she's still a threat to Anna.”

 

“I suppose that could work,” Merlin said with a grudging grin. Actually, he was well aware Richard wanted to talk to Fiona. He just wasn't sure that the favoured topic of conversation would be The Old Religion and a rogue High Priestess. However, right at the moment they were all making sacrifices. More than anything, he wanted to talk to Freya... and not just talk. He could think of far lovelier pastimes he'd prefer to be doing than chasing down enemies.

 

“Of course it will!” Arthur was up and off, full of energy. “Come on. Let's go and see how Matthew is doing.”

 

*****

 

 

Amazingly, Matthew had tracked Mark Cornwallis' movements from the given time scale with remarkable ease. The young IT expert had first thought he'd have to hack through years of Cornwallis' bank statements and credit payments, yet none of that had proved necessary. With a stroke of luck, he'd logged into a far more revealing source.

 

It seemed that the earlier, less sophisticated Cornwallis had been something of a 'rambler' and, assuming that members of the public, namely other walkers, might be interested in his travels throughout the UK he'd created a blog. As a loner, he'd taken to walking some of the country's well known yet remote trails, from the West Highland Way in Scotland to the famous Pennine Way and to the Lake District. However, it transpired his favourites were walks around Exmoor, perhaps because they were slightly easier and more accessible. From his blogs, it seemed he wasn't a very energetic rambler and had chosen to wander fairly aimlessly, staying at local pubs and B&Bs.

 

Reading his online journal, Matthew assumed he'd lost all interest in his hobby as his last entry had been many years ago when he'd been on a walking holiday in Somerset, staying at a guest house called Edgcott House. In fact, his blog had ended fairly abruptly a little more than halfway through his trip. He'd mentioned he was taking on a new walk towards Dunkery Hill on the morrow, but that had been his last entry and the account of the walk had never been posted. Cornwallis might have become disenchanted with his favourite hobby-horse, though he'd never thought to take his online diary down. Mark's careless omission seemed somewhat out of character, but it was a stroke of good fortune for those hot on his trail.

 

Without any delay, Arthur, Merlin and the two girls, along with Matthew packed and made ready to leave for Exmoor. They weren't exactly certain of where they were going, but they had a starting point, at least. Checking the maps, they'd discovered that Dunkery Hill was pretty much within the vicinity of where Camelot might have been, according to their calculations. They couldn't repress a growing feeling of excitement.

 

Although the primary reason was to find the jewelled heart with which to vanquish Sigan, Arthur and Gwen wanted to see again the place they fell in love... or what might be left of it and even Merlin had some fond memories of the place. Yet their anticipation was bitter-sweet. So much happiness yet also great sorrow would be woven into whatever ruins they may fine.

 

However, before they left, Arthur's plans for Richard and Fiona had run into problems. That very day while he and Merlin had been discussing The Old Religion, Fiona had fainted. Since she'd been full of such spirit and determination from the day she'd offered them shelter on Easdale, one tended to forget she was quite an elderly lady; a courageous friend who'd expended all her energies, both natural and magical, on helping Merlin and the Penderels fight their enemies.

 

Ygraine had the young men carry Fiona to bed, where her great niece tended her with care, while Ygraine immediately called Richard. The anxious doctor turned up as soon as he could excuse himself from his duties at the hospital and was soon behind closed doors, examining Fiona, the woman with whom he couldn't help but feel a close affinity. Which was fairly preposterous. They were both in their late sixties, highly intelligent yet pragmatic people who were content in their solitary lives. What right had their hearts to feel a gentle stirring? They should leave such romantic notions to the young. But Richard couldn't deny his worry, or his relief when he diagnosed slightly low blood pressure and anaemia caused most probably by extreme exhaustion. Fiona needed complete rest and both Richard and Ygraine were determined she would receive it, as was Arthur.

 

Fiona's collapse did change Arthur's plans. Richard agreed he would consult Fiona about their lives in Camelot and what they had known about the Old Religion, but only when she was feeling stronger so, for the present, Morgause's whereabouts would remain a mystery. That being the case, his parents, Richard and Fiona would require protection.

 

He went in search of Drew and found him in the back of the garage, tinkering with the old Triumph TR7 they'd bought as teenagers. The idea had been to do it up and they had got it going after a fashion, but somehow it had never reached their high ideas. Nevertheless, as they'd spent so many happy hours of their youth working on the car, Arthur hadn't felt able to part with their baby. He'd thrown a tarpaulin over it and through the years had almost forgotten it's existence.

 

Now he found Drew buried under the bonnet and the engine miraculously puttering away if somewhat roughly. “Good God! I'd forgotten all about her... and she still goes!” he said, coming forward, his voice husky with nostalgia. “I never expected that. I'd like to say she's purring like a kitten but I don't think we ever got more than a wheezy growl out of her back in the day.”

 

Drew laughed. “You're right about that. Your father always said we were wasting our time. If I remember correctly, he said if you waited till your twenty-first birthday, he'd buy you a Porsche.”

 

“Yeah, but when you're a teenager three years seem like forever. Besides it wouldn't have been the same. We spent a lot of happy hours working on this old buggy. We were sure it would help us pull birds, but it never did live up to expectations.” Arthur threw back his head and laughed.

 

“True, but you did that pretty well on your own: athletic, good-looking and heir to the Camelot fortune. You didn't need a babe-magnet.”

 

“Neither did you! Especially when you joined up. There's nothing attracts a young lady's attention as much as a young handsome naval officer. You had your fair share of girlfriends.” Arthur rubbed his thumb on the paintwork till he'd cleaned off the dust and the grime. He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Was I really such a cocksure brat?”

 

“Not to me, or your friends.”

 

“Good! I never asked to be rich... but I suppose I took it all for granted.” Arthur studied his dirty thumb before rubbing it on his jeans. “She brings back some happy memories, though,” he mused with a sigh for the carefree days long before he'd rediscovered his destiny.

 

“And ones from this life,” Drew replied, mirroring Arthur's thoughts. He raised his head and smiled hesitantly while he wiped his hands on an old rag. “I've got to admit, I feel more comfortable thinking about the present.”

 

Arthur's hand rested on Drew's shoulder in passing as he walked around their classic car. “Your life as Lancelot wasn't the happiest, Drew, and I'm sorry for that.” He bent and looked into the interior, saw the leather they'd polished religiously to a warm sheen, the dashboard they'd cleaned until the instruments gleamed. All of them now dulled with age and lack of attention. At last he straightened and looked at this friend who'd shared all of his adventures from boyhood to teenage years. “I can't even say that I've done you any favours by calling you home to help me. I'm sorry about Gwen... It never occurred to me that you'd fall for her again, though it should have done, if I'd given it the slightest thought.”

 

“You don't have to apologise. Gwen made her own choice... just as Guinevere did. I never stood a chance in either lives. You two were always meant to be together.” Drew shrugged and grinned wryly. “I'll get over it, but I'm thinking of going back home soon... if you don't need me anymore.”

 

Clearing his throat, Arthur went on. “Actually, I do, though if you really want to go, I won't stand in your way.”

 

Drew moved to switch off the engine, before closing the bonnet and throwing the tarp back over the Triumph. Obviously, he was giving himself a moment or two to think. He stepped away from the car. “You want me to come with you to find Camelot, to stay till all this is over?”

 

“Not to find Camelot, but I really need you for something else. We've managed to fix most of the problems -- with your help and I thank you -- but I can't help feeling there's more trouble to come. Maybe I'm seeing bogeymen where there's none, or maybe Merlin's feeling are contagious.” He came to stand with Drew at the door to the garage and they both stared out at the quiet, now sombre garden, at the lowering grey sky above the tree line which seemed to match Arthur's melancholic mood. “We're off on our search pretty soon and Anna and Wayne have already gone, that leaves my parents and Richard and Fiona alone. I've no idea if they'll be in danger or not, but I can't rid myself of the premonition that they need looking after. None of them are young and Dad and Fiona are ill. Will you look out for them, Drew?” Arthur's gaze came back from the clouds to focus on his friend. “I can think of no other person I'd rather have guarding them.”

 

“Of course, I will. You don't really need to ask.” Drew smiled as he spoke. “Your parents are like family to me... especially your mother. And I've gotten pretty close to Fiona in the last few weeks. She's a formidable lady, but she needs taking care of now. I won't abandon any of them. Go find your castle and don't worry. I'll make sure they stay safe.”

 

******

 

Satisfied that he'd left his family and friends in the capable hands of Drew, a military man who was well versed in various types of unarmed combat, Arthur drove his party to Exford in Somerset. The owners of the Edgcott House where Cornwallis had stayed had been unable to offer them rooms, being a well known and busy establishment during the height of the summer season, but they had passed their names on to a couple of smaller B&Bs who could accommodate them. Unfortunately, they'd only been able to acquire three rooms, two doubles in one house and a single in a small cottage across the road.

 

Arthur and Gwen were comfortable with the arrangements, but Merlin was a little worried that he was pressing Freya into sharing his bed too soon. In the back of the car, while the rest of the group tried not to pay attention, nor smile indulgently, Merlin voiced his fears again.

 

“Freya, are you sure about this? I won't mind if you take the single room. Matthew and I could share.”

 

“Merlin, it's fine.” Freya slipped her hand within his grasp and allowed her fingers to tangle with his. “I'm happy... truly. Let Matthew take the spare room.”

 

“I'll stay in the cottage,” Matthew offered brightly, hoping to solve the problem. “I'd actually prefer to be alone. It gives me a chance to do any extra research.”

 

From the passenger seat, Gwen spoke up, wondering if it were perhaps Merlin who had the misgivings. For all his great age, he was still a fairly shy, somehow innocent guy. “When I made the arrangements, they offered me a double and a twin, though they did offer to make-up the twin as a double. I left it as a twin, so you can decide for yourselves which way you want it.”

 

Smiling, Freya answered as she noticed the tinge of pink creeping over Merlin's face. “Thank you, Gwen. I'm sure we'll be perfectly comfortable.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek and gave his hand another encouraging squeeze, but Merlin wasn't totally nonplussed as he turned his head and her kiss landed on his lips. For a few seconds they exchanged a lingering caress before Merlin spoke up, his tone rather throaty with the promise of passion.

 

“Don't worry, Gwen.” He smiled, staring into Freya's pretty dark eyes as if pledging a solemn vow. “We'll be very pleased with the room whichever way we find it. We should enjoy our happiness while we can.”

 

Merlin's final words reminded them of their quest and for a time there was silence as each one perused the task ahead. What would they find... if anything? But more than that, if Camelot and Sigan's tomb was found, would they all win through safely?

 

*****

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. We're on the final stretch and I'll heave a sigh of relief if you all follow me to ... 'The End', and love the story as much as I've loved writing it.


	39. The Road to Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each one of our friends experience a feeling of deja-vu in this chapter as they close in on Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting tonight because we've friends coming to stay this weekend. Please enjoy... Again thank you for staying loyal to my story.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

The Road to Camelot

 

 

The eager searchers reached their destination in the early evening, quickly unpacking and settling into their respective rooms before meeting up to explore the village. Set amongst low rolling hills and scrubby moorlands the pretty hamlet of Exford straddled the River Exe, the two halves joined by an arched bridge which was a good deal younger than it looked. The stone bridge had been built to replicate a more ancient model which had given way in a storm in the early part of the last century. Like so many other small rural towns in southern England, the buildings, old and new, surrounded a village green which was used by the locals in pursuit of their leisure activities.

 

Not so on this day, since the leaden sky with its ponderous mass of clouds predicted rain. Yet the air remained hot and heavy, stifling the inhabitants who seemed more inclined to stay indoors if they hadn't a particular reason to venture out. Yet Arthur and his entourage, having lived through all the travails of the last few weeks, refused to be put off by the mere threat of a storm, nor the distant rumbling of thunder. To be honest, most inhabitants of these islands of Albion were little daunted by inclement weather but there was something uncannily abnormal about the oppressive atmosphere.

 

However, having walked the length and breadth of the village known as the capital of Exmoor, none of the party remotely recognised the surroundings as a place they'd once known. Not even Merlin could admit to any funny feelings. If Camelot was somewhere near they obviously weren't close enough to sense it.

 

Out in the west, a fissure of light split the serried clouds and a pale slant of evening sun tainted the dark sky with an unholy yellow glow. A clap of thunder, not quite overhead, heralded fat drops of rain which proceeded to fall with ever-increasing speed. The five took to their heels grabbing at each other's hands and scurried back across the bridge, over the green to launch themselves through the door of the nearest pub. Regardless of how fast they had run, they arrived in the public bar soaking wet but full of laughter. There had been something exhilarating in running before the storm.

 

“Sigan weather!” the girls chorused, being the only two who had experienced the tempest on

Torsay.

 

“Does that mean he's here?” Arthur asked, stealing a quick glance around the room, his eyes alighting on each customer in the hostelry, who happened to stare back at the newcomers with curious gazes.

 

“I doubt he'd show his face in public,” Merlin answered after having a look himself. “If he's going to accost us, I'm sure he'll choose a time and place where we least expect him.”

 

“That's if he decides to face us,” Freya said, biting her bottom lip nervously. “We never saw him on Torsay, yet he came close to destroying us.”

 

“Oh, I'm sure he'll want to face Merlin.” Arthur laughed, though there wasn't much mirth in his soul. “His vainglorious nature will require a face-to-face showdown.”

 

Merlin nodded his agreement. “Which means we have to find Sigan's tomb before he finds us.”

 

“Right! But for the present, I think we could all do with a drink and something to eat,” Arthur stated, leading the way to a vacant table in the far corner of the room.

 

Gwen giggled as she closed up to her fiancé and slipped her arm around his waist. “Now I know everything's fine. Arthur's thinking of his stomach again!”

 

“Gwen! Are you implying I'm fat now? I get enough of that from Mer... Rhys.” He changed the name quickly as the other patrons were still showing some interest in the visitors.

 

As they settled round the table, the landlady approached them, a smile lighting up her broad face. “Hello and welcome to Exford. I'm sure sorry you got a bit wet. We've had such grand weather recently, but a storm's been brewing all day and you were unfortunate to catch the rain.” She gazed benevolently at the group. “You're new around here, aren't you? It's very nice to see young people visiting our little town. You'll find we're a friendly bunch. Now what can I get you... some drinks or would you like to see the menu?”

 

“Both, please.” Arthur smiled at his most congenial while the middle-aged woman beamed under his attention as she took their orders.

 

They stripped off their wet outerwear while they waited, talking quietly. “Should we enquire after Cornwallis?” Freya asked. “Or ancient monuments hereabouts?”

 

Matthew shook his head. “I doubt Cornwallis has been here lately. His account of his visit is years old.”

 

“But if he found the tomb perhaps he's been back,” Gwen offered, leaning into the table so they would hear her quiet words. “I agree he'd no longer advertise his attention on the net, but that doesn't mean to say he's not still visiting his discovery.”

 

“I'm sure he is... but I doubt that he needs to spend the night. Remember, he's not just Mark Cornwallis any longer. He's a sorcerer!” Arthur spoke chillingly. “He's most likely a lot more intelligent and furtive now...”

 

“You might be right, Arthur,” Merlin interrupted, his expression troubled. “But Sigan's also an arrogant prick, which is why he hasn't looked too closely at the body he inhabited. If he had, he'd have taken down that online journal.”

 

“Or he left it for us to find. He had to know it would take us some time to work out who he was and what he was doing. Time for him to set us up.” Arthur's words dropped like lead into the conversation. “Merlin, my friend. He wants another showdown with you. He needs it! You fooled him the last time and locked him back in that tomb.”

 

There was a break in the discussion while the food was brought yet, even while they ate, each one of them was digesting Arthur's suggestion. If they talked at all it was of trivialities, but as soon as the empty dishes were cleared away and they were relaxing over their respective coffees or teas, Gwen could no longer contain herself. She leaned against Arthur's shoulder and hissed into his ear.

 

“Have you and Merlin got a plan because I'm fairly sure Sigan isn't going to fall for the trick Merlin played on him back in Camelot?”

 

Arthur pretended to kiss her hair while he whispered, “We're working on it, but we don't want to talk about it in public... not even using telepathy. Sigan has people working for him who could have followed us and we don't know if he can tune into our mind talk, but we've got it in hand.”

 

“It won't be an easy job... to get rid of him. Sigan seems like a slippery customer and he has powerful magic,” Matthew offered his opinion.

 

“We know. But Merlin's just as powerful, if not more so.” Arthur looked around the others at the table. “Can you trust us to deal with Sigan?”

 

There was a chorus of assent before Matthew spoke again. “None of us doubt Merlin's abilities, or your courage, Arthur. I'd just like to offer my help, if you need it.”

 

Merlin smiled. “Help us find Camelot and we'll keep your offer in mind when we're ready to confront Sigan.”

 

By common consent, the little party were soon ready to leave the pub. It had been a long day. In fact, there had been too many long days and with no end to their troubles in sight, they all felt the need to get a good night's sleep before delving into the hunt the next morning.

 

When they came outside, the rain had stopped, though a dense mist had descended on the little town. They walked slowly and silently back through the practically deserted streets to their digs, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the fog which seemed to hang eerily like billowing smoke trails in the night air. Bidding the four good night, Matthew crossed the lane to the chocolate-box cottage and disappeared under the rose covered porch while the two couples entered the larger B&B. They tiptoed past the lounge where a few other guests were chatting and watching TV, to mount the stairs... Merlin trailing a little awkwardly behind.

 

Smiling fondly, Gwen and Arthur said in unison, “Sleep well!” Then they unlatched the door to their room and left their friends alone.

 

Merlin couldn't put off the moment any longer. In truth, he didn't want to; he could only pray he wouldn't let Freya down.

 

*****

 

Once in the bedroom, Freya ignored the ceiling light and opted for the softer, more intimate bedside lamps. She felt unconsciously shy. Though she'd assured Merlin earlier that she was happy with the sleeping arrangements, she wasn't as confident as she'd feigned. This might be the twenty-first century, but Freya hadn't had many serious boyfriends and she certainly didn't have a lot of sexual experience. Living where she did in a remote part of Scotland, she'd grown up with the idea that she should have deep feelings for the partner she finally chose to give herself to. For Freya her first time should be about making love and not just for satisfying a purely physical urge. She believed Merlin might feel the same. Yet she couldn't deny that she felt drawn to him in every way a woman could love a man. Was this the night when they would take their love for each other to another level?

 

She swallowed her self-conscious misgivings. For Merlin, she would brave dragons... yet, in his case, dragons were cute and cuddly! That thought made her smile.

 

Despite her smile, Merlin could almost read Freya's thoughts, recognise her fears... yet, always a sensitive man, he set his own feelings aside to allay her unease. “You know, Freya, it seems strange to me that we've known each other for a very long time and yet, we've actually spent very little time together.” He stood in front of her, though not so close that he was invading her personal space. “Back in Camelot, we only knew each other for a few days... and this time's been a bit of a whirlwind. I'd understand if you felt you didn't know me well enough for...” His words died and he spread his hands around the room.

 

“Merlin, you rescued me from a cage when you didn't know me at all. You hid me and you took care of me, all at great risk to yourself. Even finding out what I was... that I was cursed to become a beast, you still tried to save me... from the bounty hunter... the guards and from myself.” Freya's voice had dropped to a whisper and her eyes were lowered, intent on studying the floor. She paused, but after a few seconds she looked up. “You saved me even though I died, and I knew exactly who you were. Someone who tried to help people in trouble. Someone who didn't judge others... a truly good person. A man with the kindest heart I've ever met. I fell in love with you then and my feelings have never changed.” She reached out a hand. “You're still the best person I know, but maybe you feel differently about me...”

 

He took her hand. “No! Never, Freya,” he insisted, squeezing her fingers gently. “I'd given up all hope of ever finding you again... and when I did, I was amazed. Happy! I know that I've lived for over a thousand years, but it wasn't just my magic which transformed me. Being with you has made me young again and I want to spend the rest of what's left of my life with you.”

 

“That's what I want too...” Freya's cheeks flushed rosily while her eyes sparkled with the threat of tears.

 

“Thank you, Freya.” Merlin blinked back his own tears, but he still wasn't about to rush her into taking their relationship further... not until she was ready. It was time to pull back on their emotions. “Perhaps you'd like to go in the bathroom first,” he said in his friendliest manner, though he couldn't stop his gaze from glancing over the two beds. Keeping them apart was definitely the best plan for tonight. He wanted to ask her which bed she would prefer, but decided that mentioning the word 'bed' at this moment was probably not the most sensitive thing to say given her apprehension.

 

“Thanks. I will.” Freya scuttled over to her small case and extracted what she needed then dived into the bathroom where she heaved a sigh of relief. What was wrong with her? Being with Merlin was the one thing she'd wanted since first she set eyes on him in Easdale, yet she couldn't help but be afraid that her naivety might disappoint him. She knew how he felt about her, but in his long life she was certain he'd known... had loved a few women, had probably lived with them. How would she compare? However, faint heart never won fair lady, and she was pretty sure the same thing applied to the opposite gender. She straightened her shoulders and got ready for bed, taking special care to make herself look as desirable as possible.

 

Moments later, Freya walked back into the bedroom to find Merlin with his toiletry bag clutched tightly in his hands, sitting on the bed furthest away. He glanced up as she moved into the room and his stare showed a strange mixture or concern and admiration. Desire flared in his eyes as he took in her burgundy coloured nightdress with its spaghetti straps which showed to advantage her smooth shoulders and graceful neck, the swell of her breasts beneath the silk.

 

Thank goodness, she'd thought to pack at least one sexy nightgown, though she pushed the thought aside for now and said in the jauntiest voice she could muster. “Bathroom's free!”

 

Forgetting his edict to take things more slowly, Merlin forced himself to his feet, his breath and heart beat racing. “Thanks.” He walked almost in a trance towards the open door, though he stopped as he came level with Freya. “You look... beautiful. Just as I have always remembered you from that very first time.”

 

“Merlin, when you saw me in Camelot I was in rags!”

 

He laughed, a touch nervously. “Freya, it's not the clothes that make you lovely... though I do appreciate the change.” He scanned her body before his gaze quickly returned to her face. “It's just... you. You are lovely. Your face! Your hair!” His hand skimmed the curve of her cheek and lightly touched her fine hair. “Your eyes,” he added hoarsely. Their glances locked and held. “Your mouth.” Consigning his self-consciousness to the ether, he leaned over and kissed her lips. Gently, at first, but the kiss deepened and Freya moaned almost inaudibly way back in her throat. She had waited for this for years... for centuries, and suddenly her earlier worries seemed unimportant.

 

The sound of Freya's delight encouraged Merlin. There could be no doubt in his mind that her whimper was one of pleasure since she stepped closer into the circle of his arms. His tentativeness disappeared and he increased the pressure of his lips, pulling her towards him until they were touching from head to toe.

 

After a few minutes, he pulled away a fraction, trying to still his wild breathing. “Perhaps I should get ready for bed,” he spoke somewhat regretfully, his fingers still caressing her shoulders. He watched her intently. “You are beautiful, Freya, and your beauty comes from within as much as from your form. I love you... every part of you and I hope to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” Then he moved by inches to the bathroom door, but he no longer felt diffident. He, also, had waited far too long.

 

Her body followed him without conscious thought. “Please hurry,” Freya whispered, her voice full of promise.

 

Sliding his hands down her arms, he clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. He turned it upwards and pressed a tender kiss on her palm as he said with old-fashioned grace, “Your wish is my command, milady.”

 

They laughed together eagerly, their smiles full of desire and care... a pledge for their future.

 

*****

 

Next morning, Arthur and Gwen came down to breakfast early to find Matthew already waiting, almost pacing backwards and forwards in the reception. As he sat at the table with them, he declined something to eat since he'd already broken his fast, but accepted a cup of coffee instead. It was clear from his pent up energy that he had some exciting news to impart which wouldn't wait, so Arthur decided to combine eating with a chat with Matthew, hoping Merlin and Freya wouldn't be too long in appearing.

 

The summer storm had blown itself out during the night, leaving the sky a bleached grey, with the strengthening sun promising to dissipate the lingering murk. The temperature was already beginning to climb. In an upstairs bedroom, the storm of passion was also spent and the lovers were now lying peacefully, arms still entwined and deeply asleep. Arthur's wish that Merlin and Freya would take part in the briefing was destined not to be fulfilled. They would have to be brought up to speed later.

 

Arthur opened the conversation lightly. “By the look on your face I'm assuming you have some information for us.”

 

“I do!” Matthew answered with a wide grin, placing his tablet upright on the table where it could be seen by both Arthur and Gwen. “I did some research last night before I went to sleep.” He opened up a map of the area and pointed on the screen to a fairly central point. “We are here in Exford and we know that Cornwallis stayed close by, so I checked to find a number of popular walks around. However, since Dunkery Hill was mentioned in the last entry of Corwallis's blog, I decided to concentrate on that. Did you know that it's the highest point in Somerset? The Bristol Channel is eighty-six miles away... and there are a couple of iron-age forts nearby... and the remains of a medieval settlement.” Matthew clicked on another screen which showed a picture of a bare, rounded knoll.

 

“Camelot was built on a mound, though the surrounding countryside was covered with woodland,” Arthur mused, trying to remember the once familiar scenery. “Mind you, I doubt it would look the same after a thousand or so years.”

 

“Exactly. Weren't a lot of the forests cut down over the centuries?” Gwen asked, narrowing her eyes at the picture, imagining what the hill would look like with trees and bushes.

 

“They were. And I agree with Matthew, Dunkery Hill certainly merits a closer look. We'll go this morning.” Arthur made the decision, but added a little impatiently, “Once our friends decide to put in an appearance.”

 

Gwen sent Arthur a disapproving look. “Don't be horrible, Arthur. Merlin and Freya deserve time together. They've been working tirelessly for your cause since they met up again. They need to concentrate on each other for a change... spend time alone.”

 

Arthur's blue eyes twinkled at Gwen's words. “We could do with some of that ourselves. But, you're right. Let them be. Perhaps the three of us could go check this place out. I'm sure I've as much chance recognising it as anyone. Camelot was my home.”

 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Arthur.” Gwen shook her head vigorously, her dark curls coming undone. “If Sigan's about it could be dangerous and I don't want to lose you again.”

 

“Matthew has magic and Mordred was pretty powerful too, if I remember correctly.”

 

“Mordred was, but I'm Matthew and I've no idea how to use magic even if I have it!” He took an anxious gulp of his coffee and choked. Minutes passed as Arthur helpfully patted his assistant energetically on the back till Matthew recovered, straightened up and gasped. “Enough... but thanks! I'm OK now.” He coughed experimentally before continuing. “But Gwen's right. We should wait.”

 

“I know,” Arthur conceded, his hand threading through his hair impatiently. “But I hate sitting around doing nothing. I'll give Merlin another hour, then I suggest we go check out some of the other less likely places on your list, Matthew. We can at least rule them out. I can't explain why, but I'd like to get back to Cardiff as soon as possible.”

 

“Finish your breakfast first,” Gwen advised, tucking into her own food. “This Eggs Benedict is to die for!”

 

“Their full English isn't bad either,” Arthur agreed as he sampled his meal and decided to put aside the plans for the day to satisfy a more basic need. Only when he'd cleared his plate did he show he couldn't be distracted for long. “OK, Matthew, what are some of these other places we should explore?”

 

“Were you thinking of starting without us?” Merlin's voice came from behind Arthur who turned quickly to see the young couple, standing close together, arms linked.

 

Arthur was not always a tactful man, yet his first intention to tease died in his throat. He'd never known Merlin look so content, nor Freya so radiant. Clearly, what had happened to them overnight was far above the mundane and didn't deserve being made fun of, no matter how gently. He smiled at the pair. “Of course not, Merlin. We're not going anywhere till you and Freya have had something to eat, then we've decided to head for Dunkery Hill, since that's where we think Mark Cornwallis went last... as his real self.”

 

Still, though he wouldn't joke, he couldn't suppress a tiny grin when both Merlin and Freya ordered a continental breakfast. They were probably living off a different type of energy and didn't need lots of food.

 

“How about it, Merlin? Do you agree with our plan?” Arthur asked, rubbing his hands together at the prospect. “According to Matthew's map, it's only six miles from here. We might have found Camelot by lunchtime.”

 

*****

 

Even before they reached Dunkery Hill Arthur's memories were stirring. It looked so different from a thousand and five hundred years ago, but his mind's eye had no difficulty in filling in the contours of the ground with forests and meadows and the meandering road which had approached the walls of the town. Here was the Darkling Wood... and there the fields where the corn had died when he had killed the unicorn and brought a curse down on his beloved Camelot. Yet could he be sure, or was it simply a process of wishful thinking?

 

But Arthur wasn't the only one who was remembering. On the way there, they had passed a gentler mound with broom and heather growing on the edges of a bowl shaped dip and a picture of Guinevere and Elyan standing by a grave cairn flashed into Gwen's brain. Here, maybe very deep in the earth, Guinevere's father was buried. A shiver passed through her and Arthur sent her a worried glance.

 

“Are you OK, Gwen?” he asked, his voice shriller than normal.

 

She swallowed and nodded, not trusting her voice.

 

“Gwen?”

 

“I'm fine, Arthur. It's just strange... like someone had walked over my grave.” Gwen bit at her lip.

 

“That might be literally true soon. I know that Guinevere's supposed to be buried beside Arthur in Glastonbury, but in truth, Arthur had no grave... his body was never found after I sent it to Avalon, but Queen Guinevere was buried in Camelot.” Merlin spoke up, his gaze scanning the approaching hill. His magic had been thrumming like a guitar which had been strung too tight since he'd first glimpsed the hill. “Once, there was magic here... and laughter and pain.”

 

“You can sense that?” Matthew asked, feeling decidedly freaked out by the atmosphere. “Maybe it's just my imagination, but I think I might have been here before too. Did I ever hide out in a forest around these parts?”

 

Arthur's lips thinned and he said somewhat curtly. “Yes! Mordred did.” He didn't offer any further explanation, but stared intently ahead... imagining, or recalling?

 

Freya leaned closer into Merlin's side as if seeking protection, reaching out her hand to take his. She glanced around at the countryside with a strange horror in her eyes. Freya, also, was remembering her past life. Except from her meeting with Merlin, her recollections of Camelot weren't good, but she felt encouraged as he grasped her fingers and offered her a sympathetic smile.

 

Silence reigned within the interior of the car as it sped onwards, each one of the group experiencing an outlandish sense of deja-vu.

 

Finally, Arthur pulled into the car park and they piled out almost reluctantly and crossed to the path that led up the hill.

 

“Well, here we are, ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur announced. They all gazed upwards towards the beacon on the summit, yet what they were picturing was the ancient walled and turreted Citadel, glinting in the sun, its flags flying high and the old town clustered round its feet. “I think you'll all agree with me that we've found the road to Camelot.”

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you excited to know that Camelot might be close at hand and perhaps a showdown with Sigan? And were you happy for Merlin? I don't believe I write romance too well, so I hope I haven't disappointed you. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	40. More Blessed to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Camelot in this chapter, I'm afraid. Instead we have three of our other friends searching for the truth... and one becomes a hero... again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm posting late this weekend but I've caught a horrible cold virus which is doing the rounds here and at one point I thought I might not be able to add a chapter at all. However, I felt I couldn't let you down, so I hope you're pleased with the result.
> 
> Once more, thank you all so much for continuing to read and to those who left more kudos. I do appreciate your support.

Chapter 40

 

More Blessed to Give

 

While her brother was tracking down his own demon, Anna was in search of the woman who'd dared to mess with her head. No one had ever got under her skin in quite the way Eleanor Blessed had!

 

Wayne had taken her to the house on the Ile St Louis where he and Merlin had found her, but the house had been all locked up. However, a resourceful reporter like Wayne had little difficulty in finding a way inside by the simple expedient of picking the lock on the back door. Being in the interior had availed them nothing. The house had been stripped completely and, apart from the odd recollection of Eloise chanting in some weird language and the sight of some disgusting vegetables dripping black goo all over the place, Anna could remember nothing concrete which would lead them to her kidnapper.

 

Following their visit to the isle, the journalist team made straight for The Park Hyatt where Anna had met Eloise for lunch, but they were told by a very closed mouth receptionist who had finally relaxed under Wayne's persuasive smile that Miss Blessed had instructed them to close up her suite as she wouldn't be staying there in the foreseeable future.

 

Paris appeared to be a dead end and Anna was certain that Eloise had only visited Cannes in order to meet up with her. Although it was a fairly implausible idea, Anna was also sure that her meeting with Eloise wasn't a chance one. The woman had used her to get at her family, but she had absolutely no notion why.

 

Anna left the luxury hotel, wandering outside into the sunshine, yet there was no warmth in her heart. She'd wanted... no needed to confront Eloise to discover her motives for manipulating her so diabolically. Not since she'd lost all of her blood kin had someone interfered in her life so drastically without her consent. Then she'd been little more than a baby with no knowledge of what was best for her welfare. Besides, she'd become part of a loving family who'd taken her into their lives and their hearts and she'd never once regretted her adoption.

 

Oh, there had been a halfhearted objection by her father when she'd chosen to study photography and visual communications at college, but he'd been pleased as punch when she'd graduated with honours. Since then, he and all the family had followed her career with interest and attended all the ceremonies when she'd been up for awards... and no one had applauded louder than Benedict Penderel when his daughter had carried off the trophy.

 

So why had Eloise gone to such lengths to ensnare her? She understood that the Penderels were at the head of one of the largest global energy companies and, therefore, had many competitors, but surely they posed no threat to a leading light from the world of fashion. Plus she sensed something very personal in Eloise's attack.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wayne's slightly worried voice echoed in her ear and when she answered him with only a wistful smile, he added encouragingly. “There's no need to feel so down. We might have come up empty here, but I've got a lot of contacts who should be able to help.”

 

“I know... and I'm not really down, just a bit frustrated. I'd hoped to confront her... ask her why she did what she did?”

 

Wayne gave her a long calculating look before saying slowly. “You really have no idea?” She shook her head. “Come on. You need a drink and we need to talk, then we can decide what to do next.”

 

He steered her across the busy street to a café where he found a table from where they could watch the entrance to the hotel. “Just in case she comes back,” he said as he pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit before taking the seat opposite. “Mind you, I think it's most unlikely, since I'm sure she'd have warned the hotel staff to have her suite ready.” He put in an order for two white wines when the waiter came over, then turned back to his companion. “Anna, what do you know about this woman?”

 

There was a short silence while Anna contemplated her reply. “I did my research like I always do when I accept a commission... but, on a personal level, I haven't known her for long.” She took a sip of the wine which had been placed before her; she felt in need of some Dutch courage. Her fingers continually rubbed the rim of her glass. “I'd finished up my assignment in Cannes at the Film Festival and decided to take a break. I'd been working practically non-stop for over a year so I thought I deserved some downtime... and I knew Arthur usually came to Monte Carlo for the Grand Prix. I planned on catching up with him. Instead I met Eloise. I knew who she was... who doesn't... but I was surprised how down to earth she was. For me, she was just one of those people who you meet and feel like you've known them all your life.”

 

Daring to place his hand on the table near to Anna's but not quite touching, Wayne said somewhat ironically, “I know what you mean.” He'd felt that way about Anna when he'd met her some years back. “Do you want to tell me what happened next?” he asked softly and was disappointed when she sat back in her chair, her hands slipping off the table.

 

“We spent time together and it was fun. Just two friends chilling out in the sun, so when she asked me to do a photo-shoot of her design studio and her modelling agency, I jumped at the chance. Normally she shuns the media, so getting a chance to do an article on her was a coup. I agreed.” Anna shrugged. “However, she had to get back to Paris to attend some board meetings, so she asked me to meet her there to discuss the layout and terms. I'd absolutely no idea she intended to kidnap me... and I've still no idea why. It's not like she asked for a ransom.”

 

“There are other reasons for abductions. Anna, she wanted to use you to get to your family.”

 

“So I've been told.” She shrugged again before an uncontrollable shiver coursed through her whole body. “But what did she specifically want from me?”

 

“You know, your family care a whole lot for you?” Wayne seemed to go off at a tangent. There was a tiny pause, but without waiting for an answer he hurried on, unsure of his reasoning but deciding to go with his gut feeling. “They're keeping quiet, trying to protect you, but I think you deserve to be told... need to be told.”

 

Anna was watching him intently, her hazel eyes trusting, yet touched by a hint of unease. “Go on. Tell me,” she urged in a whisper.

 

“I intend to... but remember, you'd been given some very strong hallucinatory drugs.” And when she nodded, Wayne answered, “You tried to kill your father.” There was a quick intake of breath from Anna. “Eloise gave you a syringe and instructed you to inject it into Benedict's IV.”

 

“But my father is still alive.”

 

“Only because you were stopped. I stopped you. I saw you at the hospital that morning. I followed you and saw what you were about to do. I knocked the needle from your hand before you had a chance to carry out your instructions.”

 

“No! No!” Anna's eyes stared wildly. “That's not possible. I would never... I love my father. I would never hurt him.”

 

“I know. We all know.” Wayne dared this time to lay his hand on her arm and was hurt when she almost recoiled. “Which is how we realized you weren't yourself. When you were unconscious, Dr. Wilson ran some tests on your blood and discovered you'd been pumped full of a very strange cocktail of narcotics. We've no idea what else she did to you, but you were definitely not acting under your own will.”

 

“I was unconscious? Did I faint?”

 

Wayne had the grace to blush. “Not exactly. When I tried to stop you, you fought back like a hell-cat and I'm afraid I had to knock you out. I didn't want to... and I didn't hit you very hard. Just enough to stop you from killing anyone... me included.”

 

“I should find all this unbelievable, yet it kinda rings true.” Anna drew her shoulders in and her hands tightened in her lap. “But if I did all that, why are you here with me? Why haven't my family locked me away?”

 

“Because you're back to normal. They trust you. I trust you.” She still looked doubtful. “Look, I don't know all the details, but your mother told me Dr. Wilson managed to detox you... and it's not like your spitting nails at me now, even if you don't like what I'm saying. Anna, think about it. Do you feel differently now, or like you always did?”

 

Anna stared anywhere but at her partner for a long moment till, finally, she gave a halfhearted grin. “I don't believe I want to kill anyone... though, if you annoy me, I can't promise I won't want to kick your ass!”

 

Suddenly, they were laughing together. Life seemed normal for Anna. Here she was working with an old friend, who might be more than a friend, to track a woman who was intent on attacking her family for God knew what reason. Perhaps when she saw her next, she'd ask her. Of course, they'd have to find her first.

 

“OK, Sherlock, where do you think we should go next?” Anna enquired, narrowing her eyes questioningly at the man at the opposite side of the table. “And before you suggest it, I doubt she'll be in Cannes. I got the impression she didn't know the place well.”

 

Wayne started nodding. “She probably just went because you were there. From what I'm told Paris seems to be her headquarters in France and I managed to discover she has a similar suite at the Regency Hyatt in London.”

 

“Perhaps we should pay her a visit... if she's there. I've a few questions I'd like to ask her.” Anna sat up straighter and rolled her shoulders. “Come on. I've no logical reason but I have the strangest feeling we'll find Eloise in the UK.”

 

“Going after your father again?” Wayne asked as he stood, sliding some Euros on the table to pay for their drinks.

 

“Oh, God!” Anna stood frozen for a second, then she threaded her way quickly through the tables and out onto the pavement. “Wayne, you could be right. Why didn't I think of that? We've got to get back to Cardiff as soon as we can.”

 

*****

 

Eloise Blessed, originally known as Morgause was casting spells. The first, using the Darknet to create her blog which continued to malign Camelot Industries' reputation, though that was more difficult now the turbulent waters off Scotland's west coast were silent and calm. Damn Mark Corwallis for letting Arthur and his followers get the better of him! She should never have trusted the man. Now, she could only hope that his next plan to rid the world of Arthur would work out better.

 

It was her responsibility to destroy the old Pendragon and, using her latest acolyte, she doubted she would fail. Yet it had taken time to find this place... and to persuade the White Goddess she was no longer a threat. If it hadn't been for the support of the Disir she'd still be stuck in limbo. They, like her, still believed the Pendragons were guilty of sins against The Old Religion. Mind you, they couldn't openly revolt against The White Goddess, but they'd turn a blind eye to any act of vengeance against Uther, though not against Ygraine or her son. Since his return, it seemed that Arthur was sacrosanct. He'd paid for his sins by his 'death' at Camlann and his long sleep and at present, with the help of his immortal warlock, it appeared he was the saviour of Albion.

 

Thankfully, it wasn't her task to kill Arthur, so she'd been able to swear with good conscience she wouldn't attack The White Goddess's precious hero. One day, perhaps, she still hoped to pit her skill, wits and power against Merlin and eradicate him from this existence, but that was for a future time.

 

Now she'd found the Pool of Nermain, which hadn't been easy, she could finally use her last enchanted coin. She'd been treasuring it for many lifetimes for a special task and it was time to utilize it to kill Uther Pendragon, who might have fooled the world he was the benevolent Benedict Penderel... but she knew the truth. He would pay in every incarnation for what he had once done to her sisters and to The Isle of The Blessed. She would make sure of that.

 

She'd had to wait till late at night to raise the dead. In her first life, The Pool of Nermain had been situated in a very remote corner of the country. The peasants who'd lived close to the lake had been aware of its enchantment and kept their distance, too scared to venture even within a few miles. Currently, there was a small town just over the hill, a town, spreading like a stain of brick and concrete over the landscape.

 

Didn't these modern people understand the reverence due to these shrines to The Old Religion? Someday soon, she'd make them realise, make them bow their heads to the power of sorcery. Wouldn't they be shocked and suitably overawed that magic... true magic was real and living amongst them!

 

But first she needed help to carry out her immediate plans to kill Benedict Penderel. She was sure Arthur would have warned the hospital security to keep a tight watch, had probably solicited his own friends to guard the old man. There was no way, even disguised, she'd be allowed anywhere near her adversary. She needed a surrogate and she was here tonight to call one forth.

 

And the old gods were smiling on her. In this summer of clear and balmy nights, they'd sent a storm to veil the stars and hidden the moon behind marching banks of cloud. Darkness reigned; the waters of the lake were obsidian black with any reflected brightness drowned in its murky depths.

 

She listened intently, her magic sensations radiating outwards to seek for any intruders, yet she found none, only the life forces of small nocturnal animals and birds foraging for food. A set of badgers was scavenging nearby, a solitary hedgehog was scurrying in the undergrowth, while overhead a hunting owl sought his dinner of field mice or voles. Bats too darted and swooped amongst the trees, but they stayed well away from the tarn. Mother Nature's creatures appreciated the divinity of the pool.

 

Yet she could put off no longer; this was the darkest hour of the night. She breathed deeply, kissed the silver, ridged disc in her hand before casting it into the still pond. Minutes passed. Had she enchanted the talisman correct earlier? It had been such a long time since she'd used this particular spell of necromancy. Had her memory failed her?

 

Almost ready to repeat the spell, she noticed bubbles appear on the polished surface. At first, just the odd few, but increasing until the whole mere was rippling and a slim figure of a young man emerged from the centre of the disturbance.

 

Yes! He had arrived from the other world and he was under her complete command. Her minion would carry out her order to kill without thinking. This time, there would be no escape for Uther's present persona. The shade of Charles Agravaine de Bois would not fail her... and he would have an enchanted dagger to aid him in his quest.

 

*****

 

Drew returned to the hospital in the early evening, having spent the previous night and most of the morning in Benedict's room, only leaving when the doctors and nurses were attending their patient, or to find himself some refreshment.

 

At lunch time, Ygraine and Fiona had turned up and sent him home with the instructions to get some sleep. They'd assured him they could keep Benedict safe. Though Fiona had been instructed to rest and not to drain her strength by casting spells, she felt sufficiently energised after twenty-four hours in bed. She was certain she'd be able to withstand any magical attack, at least with the backing of the ordinary security guards. Besides, it was doubtful that Eloise would choose to use her powers in public, why else had she engineered Anna to poison Benedict's IV, a surreptitious attempt at murder?

 

Now the young man was returning, as arranged, to take over the evening and night shift, and he was relieved to find Ygraine and Fiona, along with another woman, saying their goodbyes to Benedict. Once they were in the passageway, Arthur's mother introduced the stranger who turned out to be Annie Carr, the acting CEO of Camelot Industries.

 

The two shook hands as Annie smiled, her clear gaze steady and true. “I hear you're one of Arthur's oldest friends and you're helping to look after Benedict. It's good to know the family have such loyal supporters. I'm doing my best on the business side, but I thought I'd drop round to see how the patient is and to persuade Ygraine to come to dinner with me... and Fiona, of course. I believe they could both do with a change of scenery, but neither would agree to leave until their knight-errant turned up.”

 

“Then you can all leave with a clear conscience because I don't intend to let anything happen to Benedict. Arthur would skin me alive if I did.” He finished with a grin and Annie Carr, the sound business-like, financial wizard of the firm felt herself go weak at the knees.

 

Of course, he was more than ten years too young for her, but she did appreciate a good-looking man and Arthur seemed to have so many handsome male friends. Knight-errants might not be a title too far! At that thought, she felt a little lightheaded, as if her imagination had taken flight and she saw a group of young men dressed in flowing red cloaks with golden dragon badges on their shoulders.

 

Her reverie was disturbed by a hand on her arm and Ygraine's voice saying in her ear, “Very well, Annie. Since you talked us into having dinner at one of your favourite restaurants, shall we go?” Ygraine led the group off, but before entering the elevator, she turned to Drew. “Dr. Wilson said to tell you he'd look in once he's finished his work to keep you company, so you shouldn't be alone too long.”

 

“I look forward to talking to him, but I have some work to do myself. I need to contact my diving master to check how business is going. I'd like to have a job to return to.”

 

He waved the three women off and went to look in on Benedict to say hello but, finding him asleep, he asked the charge nurse if there was anywhere he could go to set up his laptop, preferably some place quiet, yet which had a view of Benedict's door. She directed him to the family rest area where he found some tables and chairs and, since the room had windows overlooking the corridor and the room he was interested in, he settled down to call his co-workers in Grand-Cayman.

 

Sometime later, when Drew had disconnected his video calls and satisfied that the company was progressing fairly well while he was away, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his shoulder muscles. He'd managed to get some rest this afternoon, but he had to admit to a feeling of lethargy. Since he'd arrived back in the UK to help Arthur, life had been a roller-coaster both physically and emotionally, leaving him almost in a state of shock. It wasn't every day that a guy discovered there was such a thing as reincarnation... and that he and his friends were living proof of the fact.

 

It was even more difficult to accept that his present life could be following a very similar pattern to his tragic first incarnation. He certainly had no intention of sacrificing his own life this time, but there was a chance that he might be killed, given the nature of the enemy they were facing. His hand came up to rub his neck and he laughed derisively. He was being paranoid.

 

Perhaps it was the stillness of the ward. Most of the patients were sleeping and the nurses had less to do, so it was only natural that the sounds of the day should have quietened and the harsh lighting should be dimmed. He chuckled at his susceptibility. What he needed was a strong black coffee and maybe a chat with some of the nurses.

 

As he left the room to make his way to the vending machine, he heard the ping of the elevator and looked up to see if Dr. Wilson had arrived, but turned away when one solitary figure emerged. A wide yawn split his face. He really did need that shot of caffeine if he planned on staying awake tonight.

 

But as he took a quick gulp of the dark liquid, the image of the male nurse who'd just exited the lift began to niggle him. He'd seen him before... and not just when he'd arrived at the hospital earlier. The young man in the white uniform had been in the foyer and he'd been talking to an elderly lady. The woman he hadn't recognised but the male, who looked little more than a teenager, seemed vaguely familiar, and there had been something furtive about their whispered conversation.

 

Drew frowned, trying to remember where he'd seen the nurse before. The guy was tall and slim, though he had a sturdy look... someone who would be no push over in a fight. His black, almost lank hair was swept back from his brow which sported dark, bushy eyebrows; his penetrating gaze; his thin lips that laughed too quickly and a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

 

God-damn-it! The face that swam into his mind was much older, yet unmistakeable. Agravaine! But hadn't he been told that Ygraine's younger brother, the modern day Agravaine, had died in his teens?

 

Well, this guy was a teenager. Had he been reincarnated... and so soon? Was there any rule about how long someone should remain dead before they were reborn? He had no idea... but he was certain that young man was a danger to Benedict. Without another thought, Drew sprinted for the old man's room.

 

When he threw open the door, the sight that greeted him sent a shiver down Drew's spine. The so called nurse stood over the sleeping man, his head kinked to one side as he studied his victim. Held aloft in his fist was a knife, its long narrow blade glinting evilly in the shaded light from above the bed. If the attacker heard Drew's entrance, he gave no sign. Instead, be drove the dagger downwards, directly toward Benedict's heart.

 

Yet it never reached its target as Drew launched himself across the room, knocking the slighter man off his feet. For some moments, a deadly scuffle took place as they rolled backward and forward across the floor, first one and then the other coming out on top. However, the younger man was the slighter, and slowly, little-by-little, Drew's naval training gave him control. But determination can lend strength and no matter how hard he tried, Drew could not wrench the knife from his antagonist's hand. Soon, it became a trial of agility and dexterity as well as strength, as he sought to avoid the wicked, thrusting point.

 

There was a lull in the fighting as both men tried to catch their breath. Drew pushed himself erect, testing each muscle and sinew to measure the energy he had left, then he launched himself at this strange foe, intent on taking the young man out before he recovered his second wind. It was time to finish this threat once and for all.

 

He forgot about the knife and employed his unarmed combat skills, chopping sharply with the edge of his hand to Agravaine's neck and body, disabling strokes but not lethal ones. In so doing, he took a number or slicing cuts to his face and arms, but they were mostly superficial.

 

Drew grunted as a deeper pain lanced into his right biceps. A lucky stab! He would have to go more carefully. The other man wasn't done yet. In fact, Drew's momentary recoil allowed his opponent to scramble backwards, pulling himself to his feet by the means of the bed-end. Yet he was not retreating. The youngster was persistent, if nothing else.

 

The assassin grabbed Drew in a bear hug, the knife between their bodies as he tried to force it into Drew's chest. They staggered around the room like two drunken men locked in a crazy waltz of death while Benedict slept on, completely oblivious to the dire struggle taking place about him. There was a sound in the background as someone gasped then called out for help.

 

As the young killer glanced up, Drew fought instinctively... no time for finesse. He hooked a leg behind his foe's knee at the same time as he pushed his torso backwards. The guy found himself off balance, falling and he clung to Drew like a limpet, pulling the heavier man on top of him. At the last minute, Drew caught a wrist and twisted and the slim blade entered flesh, muscle and tendons, squeezing past the rib bones on its unerring path into the heart.

 

There was silence in the room, except for the steady beeping of Benedict's monitors, though a commotion could be heard building in the hall. Drew lifted himself onto his hands and knees, inching away from the body and stared into the stranger's eyes. He watched as the life force faded, yet the teenager's eyes had been weirdly empty anyway... soulless! Drew shuddered in distaste, though that might have been a reaction to killing another human being.

 

Suddenly, the door closed, shutting out most of the din, and Dr. Wilson was standing next to Drew. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice shocked, but solicitous. “That arm needs seeing to.”

 

“Just a few cuts and bruises, but I'll live, which is more than can be said for him.” Drew jerked his head towards the body.

 

“I'm the doctor. I'll be the judge of how you are.” Despite his age, Richard knelt on the floor, his bones creaking in protest. From somewhere he'd produced a dressing and proceeded to tie up Drew's deepest wound.

 

“Who was he?”

 

Richard viewed the dead boy with a sense of horror. “The body you're staring at was once King Arthur's uncle and who was more recently known as Charles Aggravaine de Bois.”

 

“But isn't he dead?” Drew narrowed his eyes first at the corpse and then Richard.

 

“Oh yes. Ygraine's younger brother died when he was a student just turned nineteen. He caught meningitis B and it all happened very quickly. The family were devastated and I'm sure they never totally got over their loss, but it was a long time ago.”

 

“Is this him reborn?”

 

Richard glanced over to make sure Benedict was still fast asleep and when he was satisfied, he turned back to Drew, wondering just how much he should reveal. Of course, he could explain without mentioning Lancelot's involvement in just such a spell.

 

“No. This is something quite different. The person you're studying is a shade... the undead you might say, though not in the manner of a zombie. I believe they are just Hollywood's creation. This is something far more sinister. Charles was called from the other world by a High Priestess who had studied the art of necromancy. The poor victim is totally without a soul. He is an empty shell, summoned to carry out the orders of the one who brought him back.”

 

“In this case, to murder Benedict?”

 

“Indeed.” Richard's one eyebrow arched. “Which means that we haven't seen the end of Morgause. The shade is probably her puppet and the dagger which you used to kill him is very old and enchanted. It seems that this time she wanted to make sure of success.”

 

“Yet she failed again!” Drew finally managed to stand, though the room spun uncomfortably around him. Thankfully, Richard steadied him and led him to a chair.

 

“You really need to have your arm treated properly. It's still bleeding.” A red stain was seeping through the makeshift bandage.

 

“But what about Benedict? What will Morgause do once she learns her would-be killer is dead?” Again Drew used his chin to point towards the body.

 

“I would assume she'd be very angry... but the police have been called and will soon be here. The hospital security guards are already patrolling the corridor. I doubt she'll try anything quite so soon. Besides, I'm going to call Ygraine and Fiona and I'm sure they'll return to look after Benedict. As your doctor, I'm ordering you to go and get your wounds treated... and clean yourself up. We can talk about what to do when you come back. Go, young man!” Just before Drew left, Richard called out more kindly, “And, Drew, you did well tonight. I think we all owe you our gratitude.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, that's this week's offering. I do hope you enjoyed it. Next week we'll be back to Camelot.


	41. The Empty Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Merlin and Arthur find their goal, but it's only the beginning of their monumental task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but I have to thank you again for all the hits on this last chapter and a big thank you for those who left kudos.
> 
> In this chapter there is telepathic conversation shown in italics and also a few spells which are typed in bold!

Chapter Forty-one

 

The Empty Heart

 

Some hours after the group had reached the foot of Dunkery Hill, Arthur's prediction that they might have found Camelot by lunchtime had been proved somewhat optimistic. They had split up and searched diligently all over the mount and the surrounding area without finding the least bit of proof they were in the right spot. Nevertheless, they refused to admit failure.

 

Standing by the cairn on the summit, Arthur and Merlin regarded the landscape before them and the others who were still exploring. “We might not have found it, but I swear this is the right place. I can feel it,” Merlin stated, stamping around the large cairn.

 

Arthur laughed rather dolefully, glancing at his friend. “Are you hoping the ground will open up and swallow you? I don't disagree, Merlin,” he added, keeping a particular eye on Gwen, just in case she did fall through a hidden hole. “In fact, I'm sure you're right, but my inkling is that it's a fair way down. Which means that other than calling in an excavation crew, I have no idea how to find a way in.”

 

“Yet Mark Cornwallis did. There must be an entrance somewhere close by.”

 

“It could be further out. Perhaps he found an underground tunnel system and followed it.” Arthur had narrowed his gaze to study the contours of the moors. “One thing is for sure, this hunt isn't going to be as simple as we'd thought. Come on. We'll round up the others, have that picnic then spread ourselves further out in the afternoon.” He glanced up at the sky. “Thank goodness that storm blew over and we should have decent weather for the rest of our expedition.”

 

Unexpectedly, he heaved a sigh. Being this close to Camelot and not being able to actually stand within its portals, slightly unnerved him. Till he'd met Merlin, he'd been a fairly pragmatic sort of person. Yet here he was, chasing down his destiny from a thousand and a half years ago. Did he really wish to find the place where he'd lived and died a young man?

As a prince and a king, Arthur had always put the safety of his people first. Time after time, he'd risked his life... had been willing to lay down his life for the sake of Camelot and, in the end, had died protecting his realm.

 

In this life, he hadn't the single-minded, selfless dedication of that man. There was much he would do to save his family, his friends, even his company. He would fight against the forces which were trying to destroy all that he cared for, but he was quite clear he intended to die in his own bed of old age with his family around him... if he had anything to say on the matter.

 

In the same vein, he was adamant that none of his loved ones would perish either. Good God! This was the twenty-first century! There was enough prejudice, strife and bloodshed in this world today without fighting over magic. Merlin had always told him magic was a source for good. Surely between them they could make alliances with other sorcerers to help heal the world... or was that just a silly pipe-dream? After all, there probably weren't many magic users left.

 

Mind you, he wasn't naïve or optimistic enough to believe that Sigan would be prepared to sign a truce... but he was a relic from a long dead life. Was it possible that a reborn Morgause would be prepared to listen to reason? Perhaps the White Goddess could persuade her.

 

“Arthur, are you coming?” Merlin stopped in his tracks to join the others for lunch and looked back. He was surprised to see a strange, farseeing look in his friend's eyes. “It's not like you to be slow when food's on offer!”

 

Standing alone on the brow of the hill, Arthur reminded Merlin of the time when the young man was King Arthur and he felt a shiver of dread course through his body. Fate couldn't be so cruel again to snatch Arthur away so soon, yet there was no doubt that the plan they'd concocted would put him in great danger. Arthur seemed to pay little heed to that fact. However, Merlin could read his thoughts, every expression that crossed his face and each nuance of his body language. Arthur wasn't blasé nor foolhardy and he had more respect for his mortality than his ancient alter-ego.

 

Merlin totally understood and completely agreed with that sentiment. The warlock had expected Arthur's return, though he'd never dreamed he'd have to wait so long. To some extent, he'd even believed Guinevere might be reborn, but he'd never allowed himself to hope for any others. He was overjoyed that his world was complete again. Though there were a few particular people whose existence meant more than life to him, he cared for all the reincarnated 'band of brothers' and he'd do everything in his power to make sure they stayed safe and well.

 

Having made his silent pledge, Merlin called again, “Arthur! Get your head out of the clouds. The others are waiting for your royal pratness!” He grinned cheekily to remove the sting from his words. “We should get lunch over and start searching again.”

 

Arthur ignored Merlin, his eyes squinting into the sun. After a few seconds, he pointed towards the south west. “Yeah! And we should start in that direction. If I'm not mistaken, there's something camouflaged over there... where the gorse bushes are stacked up below that bent old tree. Does that look natural to you?”

 

“The hawthorn tree?” Merlin asked, looking closely where Arthur gestured, while a frown developed on his clear brow.

 

“If you say so. It looks odd to me... and not only because it's leaning like a drunken sailor. Surely a tree should only grow like that near a windy coastline? It's pretty sheltered down there.”

 

Again Merlin smirked at his friend. “The extent of your knowledge these days never ceases to amaze me... but you're right.”

 

“Merlin, I've already told you I get my gardening information from my mother. I used to help her out when I was a kid...”

 

“Not only when you were young...” Merlin remembered finding Arthur in the garden a few mornings ago.

 

Arthur looked a little embarrassed. “What can I say. It's nice to do something earthy and mundane every now and then; helps with the stress... and Mum needed the help. I know you think gardening doesn't fit my profile...”

 

“Probably as unlikely as reading poetry!” Merlin chuckled at his excuse from long ago.

 

For a second or two, Arthur was infected with his friend's laughter, yet he quickly sobered. “Merlin, we can't stand around all day admiring the view. We've got to check out that little copse because something doesn't look right.”

 

“After we have something to eat, we've all afternoon to explore. Come on, let's tell the others.”

 

Once the group learned they might have found what they'd been searching for, a sense of expectancy enthused each individual. No-one wanted to hang around with their lunch and soon they were headed across the moor, following a winding rabbit trail since there seemed to be no obvious path. If anyone had visited the thicket before, he... or she was careful to cover their tracks.

 

It didn't take them long to reach the twisted tree, nor to discover that the broom was only camouflage. Very quickly, they began to pull the vegetation aside when, abruptly, Merlin stopped, as if he'd run into an invisible wall.

 

“What's wrong?” Arthur asked, sensing Merlin's trepidation.

 

“This place is warded with magic and, if that's the case, there's something here to hide.”

 

“Can you get rid of it?” Arthur's tone was brusque, though he did have every faith in Merlin.

 

“It's powerful sorcery, but I can try.”

 

They all stood around and waited as Merlin closed his eyes and stretched out his hands, mumbling under his breath. At the last minute, his eyes flew open as they shone golden. There was a glimmer in the air around the gnarled tree, the branches seeming to tremble and dance to some ancient ritual till Merlin seemed satisfied.

 

“Right! Piece of cake,” he said with a grin. “Now we can proceed.”

 

“Cocky little bastard!” Arthur stated, though his answering snicker was full of approval as he returned to uprooting the bushes with extra vigour, the others quickly joining in.

 

Within no time, they'd revealed a hole, little more than three foot across, but considerably deeper. There were signs of where the earth had fallen in which had resulted in the cavity being not quite perpendicular. However, the depth was great enough to cover the bottom in darkness.

 

“How far does it go down?” Matthew asked, kneeling down and peering so far over the edge he disturbed another fall of soil. His hand slipped as the ground gave way and, if were not for Arthur grabbing his shoulder, he might have tumbled into the abyss.

 

“Quite a long way,” Merlin answered, holding out his hand and saying, “ **Leoht!** ”A ball of light appeared in his hand and he sent it hovering over the pit, before it descended into the gloom.

 

“So that's what happened all those years ago!” Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “But how could you have known I was in trouble. You were miles away in Camelot and sick to death.”

 

Giving a self-conscious shrug, Merlin mumbled, “I'm not sure I know for certain. I had a fever and was pretty out of it, but I just had a feeling you needed my help. I'm sorry. It was the best I could do.”

 

“Don't apologize, mate. That light of yours saved my life. It showed me the way out of that cave and saved me from Nimueh's little friends.”

 

“Little friends?” Gwen sensed a mystery which she hadn't been told about.

 

“Yeah. When I went to fetch the Morteaus flower to save Merlin's life I met up with this lovely sorceress who Merlin tells me was Nimueh. I didn't know who she was then, so I accepted her help, but she led me into a trap and sent a plague of evil-looking spiders after me. Without Merlin's light to lead the way, I'd never have escaped. Of course, I didn't know it was him at the time. I thought I'd got lucky, or had some guardian angel looking after me.”

 

A brilliant smile lit up Gwen's face as she gazed at Arthur while linking her arm through Merlin's. “Well, you did... even if you didn't really deserve one back then!” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she stood between her fiancé and her friend. “But I'm very glad you helped, Merlin, because the spoiled prince grew up into a wonderful, loving husband and strong, compassionate king.”

 

“Oh, don't tell him that.” Merlin blushed happily. “His head's already as big as his waist!” Once more, he realized that all the long centuries of waiting had been worthwhile, despite the fact that they were facing imminent danger. They only needed to see off Sigan and then he could relax.

 

Nonetheless, his friends were definitely displeased when they learned that only he and Arthur would climb down into the unknown. Those who were being left behind argued hard and Gwen even tried some romantic persuasion on Arthur, which failed miserably on this one occasion. The two men remained adamant.

 

“Gwen, please, just give it a rest,” Arthur pleaded, disentangling her arms from around his neck with some reluctance. “We've no idea what we'll find down there. Sigan could be waiting for us...”

 

“Merlin can handle Sigan,” Gwen protested, clinging to Arthur. Though she believed her statement, she couldn't help but be afraid for him.

 

“I'm sure he can... but if we do run into problems, we need someone on the surface to call for help.” His hands gently stroked Gwen's arms. He understood why she was so uptight. God! He was terrified of losing her too. Since the incident on Torsay, he had to keep reminding himself not to be paranoid about Gwen's safety. Hopefully, once they got rid of Cornelius Sigan they could return to a more normal life, or a semblance of normal, at least. He was well aware their lives could never be ordinary around Merlin and magic.

 

But Gwen interrupted his thoughts. “I understand that. Freya and Matthew can stand guard.”

 

“Gwen, please. This time, do as I ask,” Arthur said, pulling her in close and sending his warlock a pleading look over Gwen's head. _“Help me out here!”_ he added telepathically.

 

Merlin obliged. “I don't often admit it, but Arthur's correct in this instance, Gwen. Sigan's powerful and, though I'm sure I can take him, it might hinder me if I've to protect more than one person. After we make everything safe, all of you can explore... should you want to.”

 

At Merlin's explanation, Gwen, finally, relented. She quickly kissed Arthur, making him promise to return, while Merlin spoke quietly to Freya. “We'll use mind talk to keep in touch, but I'm not totally sure if it'll work down there. Sigan might have conjured up some barriers, so keep listening.”

 

Freya nodded, her encouraging smile not quite disguising her anxiety. “Be careful.”

 

“I promise,” Merlin said solemnly, before pressing a fleeting kiss on Freya's warm lips.

 

“Matthew, take care of Gwen and Freya,” Arthur instructed, stepping away from Gwen. “Hopefully, it won't take too long to find what we're looking for, but if Cornwallis shows up, get them out of harm's way.” And when both Gwen and Freya protested, Arthur looked stern. “Don't try to be heroes. You can help us best by staying alive... and that's an order.”

 

He waited till all three nodded their reluctant consent and without more ado, Arthur gestured Merlin to lead the descent into the shaft. At first, they found a few handholds in the stony soil, but mainly they slipped and slid their way down, gaining speed until they tumbled to the bottom.

 

For seconds they lay winded, then Arthur began to push against his friend. “Merlin, you may be skinny as a rake, but you're heavier than you look!”

 

The rake moved. “Merlin, get your elbow out of my stomach,” Arthur hissed, trying to sit upright.

 

“It's in the way!” Merlin retorted, managing to roll off his winded companion.

 

Arthur's finger pointed directly into Merlin's eyes. “Make one more derogatory remark about my weight and I swear I'll search out the dungeons and lock you away for a few days.”

 

“Good luck in finding them,” Merlin answered with an irreverent smirk, looking about him. His magic light hovered around their heads, displaying the precariousness of the hole in which they rested. The walls were earthen and appeared pretty unstable. “I don't like this place. It wouldn't take much for the soil to crumble and bury us down here.”

 

“Can't you use your magic to shore up the walls?”

 

“Sure! I believe that's what Sigan had done, but I got rid of his spells.”

 

Almost as if Merlin had talked it up, a clod of mud fell on Arthur's fair head. “Did you do that on purpose?” he demanded, shaking his head and combing his hair with his fingers to dislodge the dirt.

 

“Of course not! I'm not that stupid.” Merlin did a fair imitation of Arthur's pout at the iniquity of the accusation, but he speedily reverted to seriousness as the earth began to trickle steadily about them. They both stood quickly.

 

“Do something...” And as the soil piled around their feet, Arthur growled, “Fast!”

 

“ **Healden weall!”** Merlin spread his arms to encompass the walls and the flow ceased abruptly.

 

On the surface, Gwen leaned over the verge, squinting into the shadows of the pit, her shout shrill with worry. “Arthur! Merlin! Are you safe? What's happening?”

 

“Gwen, stay back!” Matthew instructed, pulling the frantic woman backwards. “The ground's unstable around the edges and you're causing it to fall.” Freya stepped forward to help Matthew bodily drag Gwen away, but she came more willing when she heard Arthur's call.

 

“It's OK. We're OK. There was a couple of hairy moments, but Merlin took care of it. Now we just have to find our way out of this pit. Don't worry if you don't hear from us for a while.”

 

“ _Testing! Testing! Arthur's right, Freya. There's nothing to worry about, but I thought I'd check you can hear me.”_

 

“ _You're coming through loud and clear, Merlin, which is good. Maybe you could talk to me every now and then... to let us know how you're doing... and to check the link is still holding.”_

 

“ _Will do, Freya,”_ Merlin assured his girlfriend. _“But I've got to go. Arthur is getting impatient and I can't blame him. This place is pretty claustrophobic. Look out for yourselves. Bye!”_

 

While Merlin was talking with Freya, Arthur was systematically pushing and prodding around the sides of the shaft, looking for somewhere which might be camouflaged like the surface opening. His endeavours paid off even before Merlin joined in. Suddenly, his hand disappeared into a narrow cleft.

 

“Come on, Merlin! There's some sort of gully here. It's pretty restricted, but it seems to go back a fair way.”

 

“Let me see.” No respecter of persons... particularly his old friend, Merlin pulled Arthur aside and peered inside. He directed the glowing ball ahead of him, following it slowly down a tapering tunnel. Even Merlin's slim shoulders couldn't avoid touching the sides and he was surprised and relieved that the earth felt more hard-packed. There seemed less chance of a landslide. “Arthur, there's not much room, but it's definitely a passageway.”

 

“You should have let me go first,” Arthur said, stepping carefully behind Merlin. “There's no knowing who or what we'll find at the end of this.”

 

“And what are you going to do?” Merlin asked with a smirk. “Strike them down with an imaginary Excalibur.”

 

“I don't need a sword these days!” Arthur countered, more than a little hurt. “Haven't you heard of unarmed combat...”

 

“I'd forgotten you'd trained.” Merlin threw back over his shoulder. “With your martial arts and my magic, we should be able to take on anyone who's waiting to ambush us.”

 

As Arthur was of a stockier build than Merlin, his body was more in contact with the tunnel walls, so he was the first to realize the passageway had changed in construction. “This is carved out of sandstone, Merlin,” he said, stretching up to test the roof which was just within his reach.

 

They both paused to look around them. “It's also getting wider... and taller,” Merlin announced, watching as the light floated up towards the ceiling.

 

“Thank God for that. I don't suffer from any phobias... but I wasn't comfortable back there. It felt a bit like being buried alive and we might well have been, if you hadn't shored up those walls.” Arthur shuddered at the thought. “Do you think Mark Cornwallis came this way?”

 

“Well, we haven't found another way in and, since it's unlikely he had magic before he found Sigan's tomb, I'd say he fell down that sink-hole.”

 

“And got a lot more than he expected,” Arthur added, beginning to move on down the tunnel. “He might not even realize he's been possessed.”

 

“True... but he's taken full advantage of his accidental find.” Merlin followed his friend, intent on issuing some sage advice. “Arthur, don't go all soft on Cornwallis. I know King Arthur treated his foes with chivalry... but Sigan will destroy you if you give him half a chance.”

 

“Don't worry. I've no fellow feeling for a dead sorcerer... especially one who almost killed Gwen,” Arthur ground out between his teeth. “We get rid of Sigan and afterwards we can decide what to do with Cornwallis... if he survives.”

 

“Good plan!” Merlin quipped, with a sheepish grin. “Let's hope it's as easy as it sounds.”

 

They both picked up the pace as the going became easier, thanks to the enlarging of the subterranean passage. The tunnel twisted and turned for some distance, causing Arthur to say, “I think we're heading north east, but I'm not totally sure. My sense of direction isn't working too well this far underground.”

 

Merlin was silent for a moment or two, his eyes closed as he sensed his surroundings using his magic. At last, his eyes flashed open with a twinge of gold. “I think you're right... and there's another opening up ahead. Arthur, I think we've found what we're looking for.”

 

“Close?”

 

Merlin checked again before nodding emphatically. “Round that next bend...”

 

Taking to his heels, Arthur called back, “Great! Get a move on! This we've got to see...”

 

Just as Merlin was about to run, an anxious voice sounded in his head. _“Merlin! Is everything alright? You promised to let me know... but I haven't heard. Perhaps you're out of range...”_

 

“ _No! I hear you.”_ Freya's tense question distracted him from chasing in Arthur's wake. _“I'm sorry. I should have spoken... but it's pretty surreal down here.”_

 

“ _Is it the place?”_

 

“ _Yeah. We're in a tunnel carved out of stone, heading to Sigan's tomb... we think.” Well, Arthur is and I better join the over-eager idiot before he does something stupid and gets himself killed.”_ His final words alerted him to the fact that Arthur was now alone in a totally alien environment. If he entered Sigan's cave, he might unintentionally trigger some booby-traps. The ancient sorcerer had put some in place before he died, so it was reasonable to suspect there might be a few fresh ones. _“Gotta go! I promise I'll let you know what happens.”_ Then another problem hit him. _“Oh, Freya, in case we have to come back by the same route, perhaps you could ask Matthew to get hold of those ropes we brought. We might need them to climb out of here.”_

 

Thankfully, today's Arthur had heard of the idiom 'look before you leap', as Merlin discovered when he went down to the next level to find him staring through a large, jagged hole in the rocky wall.

 

“This is it! Come see.” And as the dark-haired warlock joined him, Arthur let out a low whistle. “Amazing, isn't it?”

 

“It is!” Merlin said, with a pointed sideways glance at Arthur.

 

“Oh don't look so surprised. I'm well aware of what happened last time in that tomb. I thought I'd wait for you to trigger the traps before I went inside.”

 

Laughing a little vaguely, Merlin took a few steps inside the ancient vault. “Mind how you go,” he advised Arthur who he heard walking behind him. “Don't put your weight on any of these flagstones before testing them out. I tried to clear out all the earlier traps, but there's no saying Sigan might have renewed them.”

 

“Wouldn't that require construction?”

 

“Which wouldn't be a huge problem for a powerful sorcerer.”

 

“I suppose not,” Arthur conceded, tentatively making his way to Merlin's side where he stopped and looked ever upward. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and somewhat overawed. “Merlin, Camelot is directly above us. We've found her... the Citadel.”

 

“In a way... but she's buried under a huge hill... over a thousand years' worth of earth and rock pressing down on her. There's no saying what's left of any of the buildings,” Merlin muttered softly, hoping to warn his closest friend. However, he wasn't completely unsympathetic. “Once we solve this problem, we can return with an excavation team... see what we can find. It could prove the archaeological find of the millennium...”

 

A forlorn sigh broke from Arthur's throat. “That's the trouble, Merlin. I'm not sure I want her found. This place would turn into a media circus. Everyone would want a piece of her. Perhaps Camelot should remain a legend, a myth...” He fell silent for a long moment, before shaking himself out of his conflicting thoughts and returning to the present task. Now, he directed his gaze around the cave, assessing the contents. “You know, I believe the tomb has been raided since it was walled up again. My memories aren't quite so precise, but I'm fairly sure there is less treasure here now. Someone's been pilfering a few of the choicest jewels and gold.”

 

Merlin, too, checked out his surroundings, throwing his mind back to how the crypt was when last he stood in this spot. “I agree. Most likely Cornwallis has been using the richest pieces to fund his new life-style. Fortunately, the one jewel we're interested in is still in place.”

 

At his companion's latter statement, Arthur's mind focused on the large heart-shaped stone which rested on the chest of Cornelius Sigan's effigy. His brow creased in puzzlement. “It's clear!”

 

“Yes. Which means Sigan's soul isn't here, but we knew that.”

 

“I guess,” Arthur admitted a little ruefully. “Maybe, a small part of me was still hoping we were wrong... but I knew. So I suppose that means we implement plan A and hope it works.”

 

Shrugging, Merlin gave a desultory laugh. “Well, we don't have a plan B.” They stood side-by-side staring down at the carved face, the angles and planes showing an imperious warlock. They were about to tackle a supernatural spirit that was both calculating and uncaring, yet Merlin and Arthur were united in the resolution that neither their friends nor innocent members of the public would get caught in the crossfire.

 

“Right, let's retrieve this jewel and get back to the surface.” Arthur was the first to break the silence. “The sooner we find Sigan, the sooner we can send him back to the otherworld where he belongs.”

 

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed your first sight of Camelot, though it was only the dungeons. Do you agree with Arthur that Camelot's whereabouts should remain a mystery? Perhaps that's something which might be addressed in a later story, if I ever get round to picking up writing again.
> 
> I might be a little later in posting next weekend as I'm having a long weekend away.


	42. The Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happenings from the past continue to haunt our intrepid band and distract them from their main quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very late on Sunday but it is still the weekend, so technically I'm still inside my schedule.
> 
> Thanks once again to those who are still supporting my story and to those who have left kudos. It really does mean a lot to me.
> 
> There is telepathic speech in this chapter and is shown in italics.

Chapter Forty-two

 

The Shade

 

 

The explorers returned weary, but in triumph to Exford while the sun was sinking low in the western sky, leaving behind it feathered banks of purple clouds silhouetted against an orange sky. Dusk had already settled over the small town, nestled in its shallow valley. Though none of them cared to admit it, they were also feeling extremely relieved to be back in one piece and with the prize they'd sought.

 

Merlin and Arthur had taken much longer to reach the surface than anyone had expected, causing a few anxious flutters and not just in the female hearts. Finding the way back proved to be far more difficult than their way in. Strangely, whatever instincts had led them directly to Sigan's tomb had clearly deserted them on the return journey and they'd been lost in a maze of subterranean tunnels which neither had noticed before. On a number of occasions they'd followed twisting paths which eventually came to dead ends and had to retrace their steps.

 

Almost subconsciously, Arthur was happy to continue exploring, hoping that one of these previously unnoticed passageways might take them to a part of the castle they might recognize. Nothing, however, looked remotely familiar and, after a number of false trails, he'd been grateful to find the narrowing tunnel which would lead them to the sink-hole.

 

But, even then, their troubles weren't over. Despite Merlin's earlier buttressing, the end of the channel and the shaft itself had suffered more mini earth-slides. They'd had to dig their way out of the cleft before reaching the actual chimney, which had proved harder to climb than earlier. Had it not been for the ropes that they'd had the foresight to bring, the two might have spent an uncomfortable night at the bottom of the shaft.

 

Tired and hungry, it had been a unanimous verdict to stay one more night in Exford and leave for Cardiff early the next morning. However, the plan and the friends' mood of satisfaction quickly changed when Arthur placed a call to his mother. Ygraine had begged them to return as fast as possible, instructing them to come straight to the hospital instead of returning home. Though his father's condition had not changed for better or for worse, another attempt had been made on Benedict's life.

 

“But try not to worry, my dear,” Ygraine had hurriedly added at Arthur's sharply indrawn breath. “It was unsuccessful, thanks to Drew.”

 

“And the attacker?” Arthur asked, switching his mobile to speaker mode, which caused his voice to sound hollow and hard-edged in the confines of his temporary bedroom. The group crowded round him to hear and the room appeared to shrink due to the fact that all five were crammed inside. “Is he in police custody?”

 

There was a pause as everyone waited anxiously for Ygraine's answer. “I'm afraid he's dead,” she said quietly, a sense of horror dampening her normally buoyant tone. “There was a fight between the young man and Drew, which ended with the assassin being killed with his own dagger.”

 

“But Drew's OK?” Gwen broke into the conversation. She might have chosen Arthur, but she still cared for Drew's safety.

 

There was another hesitation before Ygraine replied, “Not exactly. He's not critically ill, or anything, but Richard is concerned. Arthur, I don't want to say more over the phone. We'll tell you everything when you get back.”

 

After an initial shocked discussion about the occurrences in Cardiff, the group had hurriedly packed. Arthur paid their tabs to the respective hosts with a little extra thrown in for the disruption of their sudden departure, before they'd piled into the car and, apart for stopping to buy some provisions to keep hunger at bay, had headed at top speed for Cardiff.

 

Nevertheless, it was very close to midnight by the time Arthur drove into the car park at Cardiff & Vale Hospital. The journey had been a fairly silent one with only the odd question being asked now and then, but as no one had any real information to give, mostly they speculated in silence, speculations which turned out to be nowhere near the astounding and distressing truth.

 

Despite the late hour of their arrival, the night porter on the desk sent them directly up to Dr. Grayson's office where they were expected. Indeed, waiting for them, arrayed around the room in varying states of agitation, they found Ygraine, Fiona and Richard.

 

Arthur plunged right in. “Where's Drew? And how's Dad?”

 

Ygraine rose from her chair. “Your dad is comfortable... no better nor worse, as I told you and you can see for yourself in a few moments. Drew, however, isn't so well and he's in the next room to your father.”

 

“What's wrong with him?” Merlin addressed Dr. Richard, sensing there was more to Drew's sickness than an ordinary stab wound.

 

Richard remained seated, his hands carefully smoothing down the blade of a very antique looking dagger. His pale, weary eyes regarded Merlin with a great deal of solicitude. “While Drew was guarding our patient, he got into a fight with a young man who was sent to kill Benedict.” Even Richard's voice sounded hoarse and tired. “This is the weapon. It killed... Cha **…** It killed the attacker and, unfortunately, wounded Drew.”

 

The gun-metal blade glinted evilly in the lowered lights of the room as Richard offered his erstwhile protégé the knife. “Can you sense the magic?” The old man asked, his hands trembling slightly as Merlin took hold of the hilt.

 

The warlock nodded as he studied the knife meticulously. “It's very old. Almost as old as myself. I'm assuming it came from Morgause?”

 

“I believe so...”

 

“Which means Morgause has escaped from the White Goddess...” Arthur cut in on Dr **.** Richard, desperation banishing his manners. “I thought she was on our side. Why would she have let Morgause go so easily?”

 

Fiona spoke up, casting her sympathetic glance upon them all, “Perhaps I can make a suggestion, since I understand more about the Old Religion than anyone else here... except Merlin, of course, but I've made a study of it ever since I realised I was... well, different. There's a reason why she's called The White Goddess; she's the best of The Trinity... more compassionate... less demanding. It's my belief that Morgause might have persuaded The Goddess by promising not to harm you, Arthur, or your mother and that might have been enough to secure her freedom. It certainly would have excused her in the eyes of the other two and they might have over-ruled her.”

 

Arthur turned to Fiona, cursing bitterly, “Good God! Are you saying my father's fair game?”

 

“Collectively, they may feel that he still has to atone for Uther's sins,” Richard agreed, coming to stand next to the woman he'd once loved and yet had abandoned as Gaius. In this life, he'd do things differently, even if they only had their twilight years to spend together.

“Arthur, you mustn't expect The Triple Goddess to think like ordinary mortals. Gods never do.”

 

“Besides, Uther was never part of the prophecy,” Merlin addedsympathetically.

 

“Benedict isn't Uther and I won't stand by and let them kill my father.” There was a mulish set about Arthur's mouth which most of the people in the room recognized from a time long past. “Where can I find these Goddesses? If they want me to fulfil their vision, then I've certain terms I want them to agree on. Leaving my father... and my friends alone being the main one.”

 

Fiona nodded and smiled somewhat anxiously but with a wisdom greater than that of her present life span. “I think you'd be able to arrange that... For the present, your father is safe...”

 

“And Drew?” Again the question came from Gwen, who sent Arthur an apologetic glance while the knuckles of her clenched hands appeared white against her honey-coloured skin.

 

“He could be in danger,” Richard said, betraying his worry at last. “The wound he took didn't seem life threatening in the slightest... but we, Fiona and I, believe the dagger was enchanted. The wound's become toxic and none of the drugs I've used are having any effect so far. Of course, the hospital staff are being led to believe it's an infection. They know nothing of the magic behind the poison.”

 

“And wouldn't believe it if they did! So, what can we do?” Merlin, Arthur and Gwen had paled, but it was Merlin who spoke. “I could try disenchanting it.”

 

“Of course, you should try, my boy... but I'm not sure that even your great magic will be enough. Morgause was determined and it appears she has lost none of her considerable skills.”

 

Gwen had allowed her unquiet fingers to be taken into Arthur's hand as she leaned against him for support. “Do we need to seek out that yellow flower again? Does it even still exist?”

 

“That I'm afraid is something we don't know,” Richard replied evenly, starting to regain his composure as he returned to a subject which was vaguely familiar. He sat behind his desk once more, turning over the pages of a very old manuscript. “Besides, Morgause might have used another poison.”

 

Crossing to the large oak desk, Merlin smiled down at the ancient book... though it wasn't one from Camelot's library. “Where did you get that?”

 

“It's mine,” Fiona revealed. “As you know, I've made a study of nature's remedies and I do have quite a library back home on Easdale. I found this one in a bookshop in Edinburgh, near the Grass Market. Merlin, it's quite an interesting little store that you might want to check out one day... when you're not saving Albion.”

 

“How did it get here?” Arthur asked. “You haven't been making any magical journeys home, have you?”

 

“Heavens no, dear boy. That kind of travel is quite beyond me.” She let out one of her infectious laughs which didn't sound quite as joyous as usual. “I called Leonard and asked him to fetch it. He arrived earlier today.”

 

“Then where is he?” Arthur questioned eagerly. “I'd like to renew our acquaintance.”

 

“Sitting with Drew,” Ygraine answered. “We didn't think he should be alone...”

 

“And who's with Dad?”

 

“Annie Carr. She dropped by a little earlier and decided I needed some time out. She also wants to talk to you; something about information on some project you'd asked her to look into.”

 

“Good. I was hoping she'd started the ball rolling.” For the first time since he'd returned to the hospital Arthur seemed pleased, but only for a moment. “Now you've passed on that message, Mum, you can tell me what you're desperately trying to put off...”

 

“Not put off, Arthur. Not exactly.” Yet for all her protestations, Ygraine looked decidedly troubled.

 

“It's a rather difficult subject,” Richard said, quick to offer Ygraine his support. “In fact, it's about the youngster who tried to kill your father.”

 

“You know who he is?” Merlin interrupted, a definite feeling of deja vu overtaking him.

 

“Or was...” Arthur added, his lips thinning in frustration, since it would've been helpful to confront the assailant. Find out who'd sent him to kill Benedict, yet he had the distinct impression that his mother was hiding something from him... which was unusual. Unless his mother was trying to protect him. “Mum, what are you not telling me?”

 

“Arthur, be careful,” Merlin warned, having a good idea where this was going and realizing it must be a very painful subject for Ygraine.

 

“Don't worry, Merlin. Richard and Fiona have explained what happened and how it came about. I couldn't accept it, at first. I couldn't... didn't want to... to believe,” Ygraine stuttered, sinking again into a chair, suddenly frail-like. “It broke my heart... He was such a quiet, thoughtful young boy. Tristan was the wild one... But I know Charles wasn't to blame. He was just a puppet.”

 

“Charles? Which Charles?” Arthur demanded, as he felt Gwen's arm come around his waist, lending him her comfort... But why? He watched with dread while tears pooled in his mother's eyes. His heart ached for her, but what could be more terrible than someone trying to kill his father again? What was he missing?

 

“Your uncle.” She gazed up at her son, endurance matching the desolation of her tears. “Charles Aggravaine de Bois, my brother!”

 

Arthur's brows flew upwards and his one word answer hit the high notes. “What?” He cleared his throat as he glanced around at the others. “But he's dead! Are you sure it wasn't just someone who resembled him?”

 

“Arthur, I saw him.” Ygraine stared at her son while her fingers crumpled the hem of her flowing print skirt over and over again. “And please don't be upset **.** I had to identify him. I'm the one who knew him best. It was Charles... even down to the birth mark on his shoulder.”

 

“We did try to stop her. There were other means of identification, but she insisted and a DNA test would have taken time,” Richard admitted, wishing it wasn't the truth. “Of course, it wasn't really your uncle. Just his body... an empty shell.”

 

Totally perplexed, Arthur turned to his resident expert on the unexplainable. “Merlin?”

 

“What they're trying to say is that Charles was a shade, conjured forth by a High Priestess to do her bidding. And, as the only High Priestess we know who's still alive is Morgause, I think there's no doubt she's free.”

 

Reluctantly, a dread suspicion entered Arthur's mind. His fair skin turned paler. “And it couldn't have been Anna?”

 

“No! Definitely not! Anna's with Wayne.” Ygraine straightened her spine, her trust in her daughter lending her strength. “She called me from France. They didn't find Eloise and they're on their way home. Arthur, we love Anna and that means we have complete faith in her, or love means nothing at all...” she ended, sadly shaking her head.

 

Arthur had the grace to blush. “I'm sorry, Mum. Truly. I shouldn't have thought that. It's just hard to accept all that's happened.” He heaved a deep sigh before continuing. “So, a shade? The same as the thing…the person that Lancelot became when he drove a wedge between Guinevere and m... King Arthur?”

 

“Exactly!”

 

Quickly reasserting his love for Gwen with a gentle brush of his lips on the palm of her hand, Arthur left her to kneel by his mother's side. “I'm so very sorry, Mum. You shouldn't have had to go through that. It must have been so difficult for you... to see your brother again after all these years and under such horrible circumstances. If it weren't for the fact that I'm convinced we have to try to come to terms with all magic users, I'd consign Morgause to the devil!”

 

Another long silence followed as everyone in the room dwelt on what they'd like to do to Morgause, but Arthur was quickest to recover. “What happened to the body?” he asked, his voice needle-sharp as he rose to his feet. “I'm assuming it didn't vanish in a puff of smoke.”

 

“No,” Richard answered in a considered manner. “It's in the mortuary for the night. I expect the coroner will want a post-mortem performed.”

 

“But we can't let that happen!” Arthur turned to Merlin. “We might have got away with it in the sixth century, but we can't let the authorities anywhere near my uncle's corpse.”

 

“Arthur's right,” Merlin said, following Arthur's reasoning immediately. “Charles' soul never came back, but that body in the morgue belongs in every way to a young man who died over thirty years ago. Once they perform an autopsy, the facts are going to be very hard to explain away.”

 

“We can't risk the police or the establishment finding out the truth,” Arthur stated forcefully. “Not that they'd come anywhere near to realizing the truth, or understanding it. But, there's no doubt that their questions would cause our family a great deal of trouble and I don't intend to let that happen. We have to get rid of the body.”

 

“But won't that cause just as much trouble?” Gwen asked, her usually clear brown eyes clouded with worry.

 

“Pretty much,” Arthur nodded in agreement. “However, I'd rather face a mix up over a missing corpse than the discovery that a member of the living dead tried to kill my father.”

 

“I think I agree with my son,” Ygraine said, regaining some of her equanimity. “I suppose there might be other explanations for the existence of a teenager who looked entirely like my brother and who has the same DNA as the de Bois family, but every permutation is bound to raise questions. I hate the idea of tampering with the law, but I can't see that we have much choice.”

 

“Neither can I.” Fiona added her consensus for the outrageous plan. “But if anyone here has an alternative idea that won't cause a public scandal, which we can ill afford when we're fighting magic, I'd be willing to listen.”

 

There was a subconscious drawing together of the individuals in the office, but everyone looked elsewhere but at each other as they weighed the options. Finally, Gwen announced, “OK, I'm with you. Only, if we do decide to do this, how do we go about it? I doubt it'll be simple to steal a body. Aren't there security cameras all over the hospital?”

 

“I can disable these, if you give me time to hack into their system.” Matthew offered his services with just the tiniest trace of unease.

 

“Thanks, Matthew,” Arthur said, giving him an appreciative glance. “But I doubt if we've  got time for that. If we're all agreed on this action, then it has to be done tonight and the sooner the better. Merlin? Is there anything you can do?”

 

“Well, I can't make a body disappear, but I can disarm the cameras...”

 

“I can help you with that,” Fiona said, supportive as ever. “And between us, we can probably trick any witness's into disbelieving what they're seeing.”

 

Again Arthur's expressive face showed amazement and he asked telepathically, _“You can do that, Merlin? Alter people's thoughts?”_

 

“ _Yes! I guess... But just for a moment or two. Only The Teine Diaga can change people's beliefs or personalities and you know I don't hold with that practice. And before you ask, I might have hidden my talents back in Camelot, yet I never altered your mind... not even a little bit. Not ever.”_

 

“ _Good! Though I probably wouldn't know if you had, I believe you.”_

 

“ _Arthur, I have ethics! Magic should only be used for good.”_

 

“ _I know you think so. I just wish Sigan and Morgause agreed with you.”_

 

Ygraine's forlorn voice broke through their mind conversation. “You might all think I'm being sentimentally silly, but I'd like my brother's body to receive another burial. I wouldn't be comfortable if he just disappeared... and I certainly don't want him to be used for any evil purposes in the future.”

 

“Mrs Penderel,” Merlin started, but when he received a questioning glance from Arthur's mother, he amended his words. “Ygraine, if we can get him away, I can give him a burial that'll ensure that would never happen again.”

 

With a new insight which the legendary king had lacked, Arthur asked, “Burning... over water? Is that why we traditionally had 'Viking' funerals in Camelot?”

 

“I suppose, though we didn't recognise them as such at the time,” Richard uttered pragmatically, remembering. “It was just something we who believed in the Old Religion did.”

 

“I wish you'd suggested that kind of funeral for Uther, then perhaps he wouldn't have come back to haunt us... and tried to kill Guinevere.” Arthur's lips thinned into a narrow line as he too recalled the past.

 

“Oh, you wouldn't have stopped that from happening,” Richard said, his one eyebrow arching disapprovingly. “You called your father's spirit back using the Horn of Cathbhadh, not his body.”

 

“God! All the more reason why Camelot should never be excavated,” Arthur snorted, his thoughts being distracted from the fate of his uncle for a moment. “With all those magical artefacts buried in the vaults... can you imagine what horrors could be unleashed in the world?”

 

“Merlin!” Ygraine's soft voice brought the subject back on track. “Can you do that for Charles... and me? Send him where no one can ever use him again?”

 

Merlin gave a tired, sympathetic smile. “Yes. I'd be glad to.”

 

“But you'll have a hard job using the Lake of Avalon,” Gwen added, crossing to her future mother-in-law and taking her hand. “There's not enough water there now to float a boat.”

 

“It doesn't need to be Avalon. Any expanse of water will do,” Richard explained, warming to the idea. “But we need to get the body out of here first. Is it possible?”

 

“You know the hospital best, Gaius,” Merlin said, then quickly changed his address. “I mean Richard. Could you show us the quickest way out of the morgue?”

 

“I can, if you and Fiona take care of the cameras.”

 

“Then let's get this show on the road.” Arthur again took charge. “Gwen, Freya, please stay with my mother. Perhaps you could visit my father and Drew, or get coffee from the vending machine... just anywhere that you'll be noticed. Richard, I'm assuming there must be an entrance to the morgue that a car or van can be driven up to?”

 

“There is!”

 

“Then instruct Matthew how to find it... and Matthew meet us there with the car. Merlin, I hope you can knock out the external cameras too...”

 

“We won't knock them out... just change what they see. Between Fiona and me, it shouldn't be a problem.”

 

At Fiona's distinct nod of agreement, Arthur continued. “Right. Everyone knows what to do, so we should get to it. We have to move fast while it's still dark.”

 

“Arthur, be careful!” Ygraine couldn't suppress her maternal instincts.

 

He sent her one of his tender smiles, the one he kept for her alone. “Trust me, Mama,” Arthur spoke gently, reverting to the name he'd called her as a small child and sensing she needed his reassurance. “I'll take good care of Uncle Charles... with Merlin's help.”

 

“I do trust you.” She too smiled, though a little unsteadily and was thankful to lean on Gwen's strong young arm. “I think all of Albion will soon be grateful that you're together again...”

 

*****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I continue to interest you with my story and you enjoy how I've woven the happenings from the show into the present day.


	43. Preparing The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests there is less action in this chapter. It is more a review of what has gone before and leads into the final confrontations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting very close to the end of this story and I'd truly like to thank of those who've continued to read and specially thank those who've sent kudos and even comment on my writing. It's been quite and adventure and I hope you enjoy the last chapters -- only two to go.
> 
> Spells are used in this chapter and are notated in bold. Once again, I've used my very helpful website to create the spells.

Chapter Forty-three

 

Preparing The Way

 

 

It was an hour before dawn when Merlin, Arthur and Ygraine, with Matthew driving the Mercedes SUV, arrived at Dunraven Bay with their special cargo. Though the sun had not yet risen, the sky had paled to an iridescent pearl grey as an early fog rolled in from the ocean, camouflaging the horizon. Later, no doubt, the sun would burn off the mist, but the opaque visibility suited the mourners' need for privacy.

 

It had been a great deal easier than Arthur had believed possible to abduct the body and load it into the car. In fact, it had taken more time and effort to acquire a row boat, large enough for their purposes, and a trailer to tow it to the idyllic seaside village of Southerndown.

 

Merlin had chosen the venue, telling them Earth's magic was strong here, besides being more remote than some of the other seaside towns on this coast. Certainly, the foggy weather had dissuaded surfers and early morning walkers from visiting the beach, leaving the mourners alone to complete their preparations.

 

Drifting in and out of the ghostly tentacles of mist which swirled about the beach and headland, the men frenetically collected all the available driftwood and loose twigs they could find, laying it in the bottom of the boat to provide an adequate bier. But would it be dry enough to ignite, or be sufficient to completely cremate the vessel and corpse which would return it to the Afterlife? Merlin might have magic but he wasn't a miracle worker, he informed them. He needed the proper tools for the job.

 

More in hope than satisfaction and as time was marching on, a plaid blanket that Richard had provided was thrown over the wood before Charles' body was laid gently on top. Ygraine, who'd been busy searching for flowers instead of wood, scattered a delicately coloured bouquet of sea pinks and white mayweed around her long lost brother, yielding to the instinct to touch his face in the final moments. His skin felt cold, but not unpleasant, almost as if he'd fallen asleep in the open air. How strange! She'd almost forgotten how handsome he'd been, yet she wished with all her soul she'd never had the chance to be reminded... not is this macabre way.

 

“Are you ready, Mum?” Arthur whispered, his expression blurring in the swirling haze. “We have to do this while we're still alone.”

 

She didn't trust her voice, but gave a distinct nod. One which could be seen even in the murk. The three men pushed the bow of the boat into the softly rippling waves.

 

“Merlin?” Arthur prompted, taking one last look at the corpse of the uncle he'd never known.

 

“Shouldn't someone say something?” Matthew asked somewhat abashed that he'd dared to speak. “After all, it wasn't his fault he came back as a would-be killer.”

 

Arthur looked to his mother again and received another small nod of assent. He cleared his throat, beginning hesitantly, “Uncle Charles, I wish I'd met you under better circumstances, but I know from my mother... your sister, that you were loved dearly and very much missed. Go back to those who await you beyond the veil, Charles Aggravaine de Bois, and sleep in peace once more.”

 

Silence descended over the shrouded beach while overhead a gull called for its parent, a haunting cry of a lost and frightened child. Merlin stepped forward and laid one hand on Charles' brow while the other rested on the empty row-locks of the boat.

 

“ **Grith fæstne mid thisse tintregedan sawole!”** he chanted, his voice in quiet control, yet nothing happened.

 

He stilled his breathing to repeat the spell, but as he did, Charles' eyes opened. Ygraine gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth to stifle a louder scream. The young man, lying prone amongst the flowers, smiled benignly at his sister while Arthur wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. Yet, just as suddenly, Charles' eyes drifted shut and his face settled into something resembling a smile. He was at peace.

 

Now Merlin stepped back, raising his right hand to stretch toward the ocean. “ **In sibbe gerest.”** Slowly, the boat edged into the water, settling smoothly as it gathered speed on the ebb tide. When Merlin judged it had reached deeper water, he uttered another final spell, his eyes glowing bright golden. **“** **Bael onbryne!”**

 

Those on the shore watched intently as a tentative column of flame stirred the leaden air before the conflagration increased, burning like a bright halo through the haze. Ygraine still leaned against her son's strong body, her feet rooted to the sand while a mixture of fear, awe and relief seethed within her. In silent accord, the three men waited for her to free them from the tableaux, but Ygraine believed she must stand witness to her brother's final parting.

 

Only when there was no sign of the boat or its passenger and even the rising smoke had dispersed completely in the freshening air did she speak. “Thank you, Merlin. I'm grateful to you all for your help.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her free hand as she stared out to the sea for one last, lingering moment, then she turned. “Take me home, Arthur.”

 

*****

 

Since Merlin and Arthur had been active both physically and emotionally almost non-stop for over seventy-two hours, they decided to snatch a couple of hours sleep at the citadel before moving onto the next part of their plan. When they returned from Dunraven Bay, they'd dropped Matthew off at his home, believing he also needed a rest, and Arthur insisted that Ygraine didn't return to the hospital immediately as she was looking pale and weary to the bone. Besides, his father was well cared for by Richard and his medical team while Drew had Fiona, Gwen and Freya to watch out for him. Hopefully, both the invalids would be safe for a few hours and Leonard was there should they need a stronger arm to guard them.

 

However, when they reached Cyneod Road they discovered that both Gwen and Freya had been sent home by Richard and the women were asleep in Arthur's and Merlin's bedrooms respectively. Though both men were much in love with their partners and were experiencing all the heightened passions of love rediscovered, they were also desperately tired and neither had the heart to waken their girlfriends. Almost simultaneously, Merlin and Arthur slid into their beds, happy with a quick kiss and cuddle with their partners, but with hardly a thought of who was in charge at Cardiff and Vale Hospital.

 

Yet, with the quick recovery powers of the young, shortly after ten o'clock Arthur was down in the kitchen making a breakfast-in-bed of tea and toast with a glass of orange juice for Gwen and wondering if Merlin and Freya would resent his intrusion if he arrived bearing such a stark offering of food. Nonetheless, he decided to make up two trays, but raided the fruit bowl and added a selection of grapes, bananas and peaches to each. In fact, for a moment or two, he had a mind to pay a trick on Merlin. While preparing the trays, he'd been reminded of his servant's strange lapse in Camelot when he'd presented Arthur with a mouldy apple and a hunk of dry bread to break his fast. Of course, he'd since learned it had all been in a good cause. Merlin had been stealing Arthur's food to feed a starving Freya, whom he'd hidden away from a bounty hunter and Camelot's guards; a good-hearted plan which, sadly, had disastrous results through no fault of Merlin, nor even Freya, since she'd been cursed.

 

Thank goodness fate had chosen to smile on his best friend and return the love of his life to him. With that thought in mind, Arthur knocked on Merlin's door and said, just loud enough to be heard, “Room service!”

 

He gave them a few minutes to make themselves presentable for modesty's sake, before waltzing in with his tray. “Good morning... and another fine morning it's turned out to be.” He placed the tray on a bedside cabinet before pulling back the thick curtains to let in some light. “I thought I'd bring you breakfast to show that I'm not a complete moron in the kitchen. Mind you, it isn't much... not like Gwen's breakfasts, but enough to get you both started.”

 

Merlin had pushed himself up on one elbow and was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his other hand. “What time is it?” he asked, in protest.

 

“Just after ten. I'm sorry, Merlin, but we don't have time to laze about in bed all day.”

 

Merlin pulled the covers over Freya's head, trying to shield her from the encroaching sunlight and Arthur's cheerful gaze. “How come you're so bright and energetic in the mornings? I think I preferred you in Camelot days when you were a miserable old grouch!”

 

Arthur simply shrugged. “Who knows! Maybe I'm just a more upbeat person in this life.” His sparkling smile teased his friend. “And I know we've lots to do and I'd rather get it done sooner rather than later. Afterwards, I might take Gwen away to some tropical island and sleep for a week.”

 

“There's some lovely peaceful islands up in Argyll,” Merlin suggested with an answering grin while eyeing up the breakfast tray. Amazingly, Arthur had even included a small bunch of brightly coloured pansies.

 

“Don't mention Argyll... not that I've got anything against Scotland. I just think I'd prefer somewhere entirely different for the moment.”

 

A dark head raised itself above the covers, eyes squinting in the light. “Is that Arthur?”

 

“Hi, Freya. I decided to bring you breakfast in bed... and now I'm off to serve Gwen. Enjoy!” Arthur waved as he scuttled back out the door, leaving a shocked couple behind him.

 

“He really is different this time around,” Freya said with surprise. “I like this Arthur much better.”

 

“Don't expect too much of his culinary skills. Breakfast is fairly plain, but it's the thought that counts, I suppose.” Merlin lifted the tray and settled it on his knees while Freya sat up in bed. “But I'd agree. His bark was always worse than his bite... but this modern day Arthur doesn't even bark as much. I blame Ygraine,” he added with a grin.

 

“True! I doubt anyone could turn out bad with a mother like her.” Freya's words came out slightly muffled as she munched on a slice of buttered toast. “I swear all these late nights and running around the country are making me hungrier. Normally, I only have time to grab a coffee before I start work. Be a darling and pour me some tea, Merlin.”

 

*****

 

 

Shortly after noon the foursome left home bound for the hospital, anxious to see how Drew was faring. Ygraine had wanted to come along too, but Arthur had persuaded her to spend some quiet time in her garden, pointing out that her precious roses needed dead-heading. He knew gardening would distract his mother and she wouldn't be alone as George would arrive for work in the early afternoon. Besides, there wasn't much she could actually do at his father's bedside but sit and wait for him to wake up, fretting all the while. Benedict might no longer be in danger of losing his life, but his periods of consciousness were still few and far between. After a spell in her beloved garden, his mother would cope more easily with the long wait for her husband to awake.

 

A surprise awaited them at Cardiff and Vale in the person of Anna. Both she and Wayne had returned, still trying to discover Eloise's whereabouts. Using their contacts, they'd been able to trace her as far as London, but she'd already left her hotel by the time they enquired at the reception. Anna had then taken the initiative by suggesting they return home as quickly as possible because Eloise, driven by frustration, could very well attempt a personal attack on Benedict.

 

The two reporters had arrived late morning and been informed by Richard and Fiona of all that had happened while they were gone. Anna had been shocked by the latest, yet futile attempt on her father's life and she'd been extremely grateful to Drew for his brave actions. It'd saddened her to hear that he was now suffering from a type of blood-poisoning which wasn't responding to treatment and demanded to know how she could help.

 

Though she couldn't explain exactly why, Anna felt responsible for bringing Eloise Blessed into their lives and she was determined to confront the woman.

 

“Don't be stupid!” Arthur almost snapped at his sister when she told him of her intentions. “It's not your fault. This Blessed woman obviously has something against Dad, though God knows what!” Of course, he knew exactly what Morgause's motives were, but he was anxious that Anna should remain in ignorance until after they consulted The White Goddess again, if that was even possible.

 

“But Dr Grayson hasn't been able to discover what toxin Eloise used on the knife and until we find out what it is, he can't treat Drew. Drew's one of your closest friends. Surely, you can't stand by and let him die?”

 

“Hell, Anna! You know I don't intend to let Drew die... but that doesn't mean I want you falling into Eloise's hands again.”

 

“Yet you didn't mind Wayne and me going to Paris.” Anna narrowed her eyes at her brother, before glancing at Rhys who refused to meet her gaze. Arthur's expression turned blank, yet Anna recognised that look. “You knew we wouldn't find her there. You sent us on a wild goose chase!”

 

“Not exactly. We thought she might have been... somewhere else, till she was seen on CCTV in the hospital foyer with the guy she sent to kill Dad.” Arthur swallowed, realising his sister wasn't about to let him off the hook quite as easily. “Anna, this woman is dangerous. I don't want you falling under her influence again. I'm sorry if you disapprove of my high-handed tactics, but I was only trying to protect you.”

 

“I don't need protecting, Arthur!” Anna stated, almost pausing between each word for emphasis. “I'm sure I've faced down some tougher criminals than Eloise. What is she? The World's number one terrorist?”

 

“Just because she doesn't carry an AK-47 and hasn't got a bomb tied round her waist doesn't mean she isn't deadly!” Arthur retorted with growing irritation. Why did his sister always have to resist his advice?

 

“You should listen to Arthur,” Merlin joined the conversation, interrupting calmly. “Eloise has more powerful weapons than you know.”

 

Anna's piercing green eyes turned to Rhys, her bowed eyebrows drawing together. “Such as?” There was a pregnant pause. “Well! I'm listening.”

 

Yet, as Arthur turned and sent Merlin a warning glance, he blushed and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He realised, as Arthur did, that this wasn't the time to hint at the truth to Anna. “How should I know?” he said. “I'm a geologist... not a Master of Arms. But Eloise did get the better of you in Paris...”

 

“Thanks for the reminder,” Anna replied sarcastically, turning to her brother. “Does your new friend speak to you like that?”

 

“He does call a spade a spade,” Arthur said, grinning. “I thought you'd approve of someone standing up to me.” There was a pause while Arthur laid his arm lightly across his sister's shoulders. “Look, Anna, I'm not telling you what to do, only asking you to use a little caution when it comes to Eloise. Besides, Richard has the labs working round the clock. I'm sure they'll discover what substance was used on Drew and create an antidote in time.” His gaze slid round the room till they came to rest on Gwen. Their eyes caught and held as Arthur silently apologised to his fiancée. He knew how worried she was for Drew.

 

There was another moment of silence before Anna's shoulders sagged. “OK. Maybe you're right this time. I'll back off for now.”

 

Arthur's stare snapped back to his sister, his mouth almost dropping open in shock. Anna wasn't in the habit of giving up without a fight. “You're sure? You're not just saying this to get me off your back?” And when Anna grimaced wryly, he continued. “Promise me, Anna!”

 

“What are we, Arthur? Kids? Do you want a pinkie promise?” But as her brother seemed disinclined to relent, she offered an olive branch. “Fine! I promise I won't go searching for her.”

 

She felt bad because she did appreciate Arthur's concern and she didn't like misleading him. Though, the way she saw it, calling all the top hotels in Cardiff and leaving a message for Ms Blessed to meet up with Anna Penderel in Roath Park at midnight didn't exactly constitute a search. She had no idea why she'd chosen the park but it seemed somehow appropriate and there would be hardly anyone about at that time. She also couldn't explain why their meeting should be clandestine but she felt sure Eloise would prefer it that way.

 

To tell the truth, there was no guarantee her message would even reach the woman, but Anna was willing to bet that Eloise's penchant for staying at these five-star hotels meant that she'd get lucky with one of her communiques and there was no way she was willing to scare Eloise off with the arrival of the cavalry.

 

The cavalry, in this case her brother and his friend, however, seemed to be satisfied with her pledge, which was quite a surprise. From the determined look on Arthur's face, she assumed he had his own venture to pursue, which proved to be the truth. After checking in with Richard and visiting both his father and Drew, Arthur took Rhys and left for the main offices of Camelot Industries to consult with Annie Carr.

 

*****

 

“Arthur... and Rhys!” Annie Carr seemed a trifle overtaxed, yet she smiled as she came around her desk to shake hands with both men. “It's good to see you... and in one piece. I was sorry to hear your friend Drew is sick, yet thank goodness he managed to stop the killer.”

 

“Amen to that! But it's good to see you too, Annie,” Arthur replied, genuinely pleased. “I'm only sorry to have burdened you with so much work,” he added, glancing over her unusually untidy desk.

 

“I've been happy to help.” She smiled again before her face and voice became sombre. “Have you any idea who's behind these attacks? I can scarcely believe that a rival CEO would go to such lengths to destroy the firm. And I hear the hospital has lost the attacker's body!”

 

“So we were told,” Arthur said, keeping his expression neutral. “But, believe me, Mark Cornwallis is no ordinary business competitor. Though we're not exactly sure he's behind the attacks on Dad, he's willing to try any underhand method to destroy everything we've built up.”

 

“Oh, I believe you and I'm very glad you managed to disprove those scandalous accusations.” She gestured to both men to sit down. “Arthur, you do realise there's no reason why you shouldn't take over your father's role now. It's what he would have wished.”

 

Arthur perched on the edge of the leather sofa and clasped his hands between his knees. “No, Annie. Believe me, I'm grateful for the offer and for all you've done, but I'd rather you stayed in the post for the present, if you don't mind. There's things Rhys and I have to do and we need time. If we're successful then perhaps life will return to normal... or as normal as possible since Dad is... ill.” He hated to contemplate the fact his father wouldn't get well again.

 

Annie leaned against the front edge of her desk, glancing between the two good-looking young men. She'd every faith in their capabilities, but she sensed they were facing far greater difficulties than she could imagine. “Of course I'll stay as long as you want me to. You know you've only to ask.”

 

“Thanks, Annie, but I'm only here to find out how our own ruse is progressing. From what you told Mum, I'm assuming you've already started the rumour about a counter-takeover bid?”

 

“I have.” Annie nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “As you suggested, I instructed the lawyers and financial team to make preliminary investigations into a possible buyout of Sigan Fuels. Of course, I've explained it's not official, but I'm sure some word will reach the grapevine.”

 

“Good! My intention is to catch Cornwallis off guard. I need to force him into a private confrontation and I'm hoping this will do the trick.” Arthur stood up and offered his hand again to the woman who'd taught him everything he knew about Camelot Industries, perhaps more than his father and certainly a little less partisan. “I know you don't understand it all, Annie, so thanks for trusting me and thanks for keeping an eye on Mum as well. Anna and Gwen are with her now and even Rhys's girlfriend Freya, but it's good she has a friend of her own, especially one with your knowledge of the business.”

 

“It's my pleasure, Arthur. You know how fond I am of Ygraine. Now, I can see how keen you are to be off and doing... whatever it is you have to do.” Annie escorted them as they made their way to the door, then shocked Arthur by kissing his cheek. “I won't ask what you have planned because I don't think I want to know, but I wish you both luck in your endeavours.”

 

There was an exchange of goodbyes before Merlin preceded Arthur to the elevator. They traded glances, though neither needed to speak. They both knew the game was afoot and God only knew how it would end.

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's this week's offering. I do hope you liked it. I'd love to hear what you think, if you have time to spare.


	44. Ill Met by Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this penultimate chapter, Anna has a meeting which has some success and Merlin and Arthur lay their plans to destroy Sigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I've managed to keep to schedule and I've only one more week to go. I'll actually be quite sorry to post 'The End' yet relieved too. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has continued to read this story and I'm grateful to those who let me know they were enjoying the tale.

Chapter Forty-Four

 

Ill Met by Moonlight

 

 

Roath Park certainly looked less inviting in the dark of night than it had in the morning sunrise, though Anna couldn't be sure how she knew that. She doubted she'd ever been here at dawn, not even as a child with her family. Yet dream-like images flitted through her mind's eye and perhaps it was that uncertainty causing her blood to run cold. The shifting shadows of the trees in the faint breeze cast strange silver-edged shapes upon the ground, while the tree branches rubbing softly together seemed to whisper a warning. Anna glanced around her for a sign that Eloise had come at her request.

 

Perhaps this was a wild goose chase and she almost hoped it was. What if her brother and Rhys were correct about Eloise? Would the woman attempt to kidnap her again? If she did, she wouldn't find Anna such a push over this time. Anna had come prepared. She'd slipped pepper spray into her pocket and had spent the evening practising her Taekwondo moves. Unless Eloise had brought reinforcements, Anna felt confident of her ability to stay in charge of any confrontation. However, she had an instinctive inkling that Eloise would come alone.

 

An indistinct figure materialized in the near distance, threading its way through the heavily-leaved trees. It appeared to be shrouded in Stygian gloom and Anna flexed her shoulders and prepared to fight. Yet as the person drew nearer, Anna could see that the individual was wearing a long cloak which looked somewhat out of place in this era, and it was only as the woman approached that the hood was slid back, uncovering a head of glorious golden hair. Eloise!

 

“Morgana, you asked to see me!” The voice was just as Anna remembered, cultured and clear.

 

“Why do you persist in calling me that?” Anna asked, her hackles rising. “My name is Anna Penderel, as you well know!”

 

Graciously, Eloise bowed her head on her slender neck in acknowledgement. The lovely woman was never anything but elegant. “Because you remind me of someone I used to know called Morgana. You don't remember her?”

 

Anna shook her head. “Not at all. It's an unusual name, so I doubt I'd forget...” Her words died away. No matter how confident she'd been before the meeting, Eloise always managed to undermine her self-assurance... to make her feel gauche.

 

“No matter. I'm sure you'll meet her one of these days... if you stay with me.”

 

“Ah, well there you'd be mistaken,” Anna declared, exasperation steadying her nerves. “I've no intention of going with you and if you attempt to take me by force, I'm ready to fight this time.”

 

“But I've no intention of fighting you. That's the last thing I want to do. I would like to be your friend and I hoped when I got your message you might feel likewise. Don't you sense there's an affinity between us?”

 

“Perhaps. When we first met,” Anna admitted grudgingly, before she lifted her chin in defiance. “But I don't take kindly to people who kidnap me, then seek to hypnotise me with strange hocus-pocus.”

 

Eloise winced at the sarcasm in Anna's tone, yet she latched onto the younger woman's slang description of magic with a glimmer of hope. Given some gentle encouragement, could her memories be awakened? “I see that was a mistake,” Eloise acknowledged with the shadow of a smile. “I'm afraid I didn't have time to persuade you by ordinary means so I tried... other methods. For that I am sorry.” She took a step closer and attempted to catch Anna's gaze with her own. “I do care about you and I never meant to hurt you.”

 

But Anna averted her eyes. She wasn't about to fall under Eloise's spell again. “My true friends made sure you didn't do me any serious harm. But I think you should know I don't appreciate being controlled. My father might have tried when I was a child, but even he gave up. Now he's proud of my independence and he loves me... and you're trying to kill him!”

 

“But he's not your real father!” Eloise cut in, her poise slipping a little.

 

“No. Not my biological one, but he's the only father I've ever known. My parents and my brother are the only family I want and need... and you are trying to destroy us!” Anna almost spat the words at her. “They're good people. What has Benedict Penderel ever done to you that you should seek to kill him?”

 

“Benedict himself? Actually, nothing.” Eloise's fine skin appeared to have blanched in the pale darkness of the summer night. “Let's say it's a very old family feud.”

 

“And you would have him assassinated for something he's not responsible for? Some unknown crime his parents, or even his grandparents committed?” Anna swallowed the bitter bile which threatened to choke her. “That's barbaric!”

 

“It goes back a longer way than you could ever guess and the crimes were barbaric... In this day and age you would call it genocide.”

 

That last word caused Anna to pause. As a reporter she'd covered some bloody ethnic conflicts and been appalled by the atrocities she seen, yet what had that to do with her family?

 

“I've no idea which conflict your talking about... but my father is innocent!” she cried out at the injustice. “You can't take revenge in the present day for something that happened years ago.” Anna stared at the woman she once thought to befriend as if she were crazy. Damn! She was crazy. Yet Anna was here for a purpose and provoking Eloise might not be the best strategy. She took a deep calming breath. “And now my friend who fought your hit man is lying in a hospital bed. He's growing sicker by the day because of some poison you used on the knife. How could you ask to be my friend? I could never trust you.”

 

The two woman glared at each other with only a few feet between them, but Eloise could feel Morgana drifting ever further away from her emotionally. She felt bereft. There had never been anyone in any of her lives who'd meant as much to her as her sister. She couldn't bear to let her walk out of her life. Somehow she had to salvage their relationship... reach some sort of compromise.

 

“Perhaps if I offered to help your colleague... your friend who's ill...”

 

“That's why I asked you to meet me.” Anticipation flickered in Anna's mind and she was quick to seize the opportunity. “If you can give me the information I need to save Drew, I might accept you have some small consideration for my feelings.”

 

“And this man is important to you?” Eloise asked pointedly, betraying her curiosity about the depths of Anna's commitment.

 

“I'm not in love with him, if that's what you're asking, but I've known him since I was a kid. I suppose he's a bit like a brother...”

 

“Then for your sake and to prove I'm not as wicked as you suspect, I will help.” Eloise weighed up her need for revenge against her wish to be reconciled with Morgana and was surprised when her finer feelings won. She rummaged in her handbag while turning her head away so that Anna wouldn't see her eyes as they flared gold. Hidden from sight, words appeared on her monogrammed notepad from which she tore the top sheet of paper. With another smile, she handed it to Anna. “That's the formula for the antidote and try not to worry. Believe me! The young man will survive.”

 

The bright moonlight breaking through the leaves allowed Anna to check out the note, but she frowned doubtfully at the strange lettering. “It seems a very strange formula to me. I don't even recognise the language.”

 

“Never fear! Give that note to Dr Grayson and he'll understand...”

 

“You know Dr Grayson?”

 

Eloise gave a dismissive shrug. “I've never actually met Dr Grayson.” Her emphasis was on his name. “But, like you, I do my homework. I know a lot about your friends and family, Anna.”

 

“That hardly inspires me with faith in your goodwill. If you want me to change my opinion of you, then I suggest you leave my family alone. Leave my dad alone.” Anna levelled a warning glare at the older woman. “Attempt to kill my father again and the next time we meet it won't be to talk. Believe me, that's both a threat and a promise!” She spun on her heels and walked away, her head held high as her black hair reflected the silver light, her hips slightly swaying with her strong stride.

 

In a strange way, Anna's threat left Morgause more pleased than upset. Though she might not remember her past life, Anna showed spirit and courage. She was proud of her, but Morgause had also learned a valuable lesson tonight. The young woman responded to the velvet glove rather than the iron fist. Yet she'd laid the foundations. There was all the time in the world -- or perhaps in her next incarnation -- to win Morgana to her side and revenge was a dish best served cold.

 

Morgause smiled. There was a great deal of truth in these old adages!

 

 

*****

 

Immediately after leaving Annie Carr, Arthur placed a call to the main offices of Sigan Fuels to arrange an appointment with Mark Cornwallis, only to be told that Mr Cornwallis was in London for a meeting with his financiers. Arthur allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Could this meeting with his bankers be a result of Annie's machinations? He certainly hoped so. Nevertheless, Arthur asked for a contact number as he'd important business to discuss with Mr Cornwallis about the future of Sigan Fuels and he felt very strongly that their CEO would be anxious to hear what he had to say. There was a pause for what sounded like a private consultation on the other end of the line before ending abruptly.

 

“Mr Cornwallis will meet with you... but in London,” Mr Cornwallis's PA took over the conversation. “However, he does have an important corporate dinner to attend this evening, but he is willing to fit you in afterwards, if you're amenable. It will be rather late... or you can wait until tomorrow, whichever you prefer.”

 

“It so happens that I am going to London myself,” Arthur answered, improvising. Yet, to tell the truth, London suited his and Merlin's purposes. Anything which would take them away from Dunkery Hill and the suspicion that they'd found Camelot and, thus, Sigan's jewelled heart. “And as my time is also limited, I'll meet with him tonight. Shall we say... midnight? I know how these business dinners often linger and I would hate to have to hang around waiting. I'll leave the place of our meeting up to him.”

 

There was another hesitation while Arthur heard faint, yet urgent talking in the background before the PA returned. “Mr Cornwallis will meet you in his penthouse suite at midnight. I'll text the address to your phone number, if that's convenient?”

 

“It is. Please tell Mr Cornwallis that I look forward to talking to him and putting my proposal to him in person,” Arthur lied and crossed his fingers. This meeting was likely to be as deadly as any he'd ever faced in his time in Camelot. Again, he was facing powerful sorcery and, being oblivious till very recently to the fact magic still existed, he was probably less prepared than he'd once been. Thankfully, he was now fully aware he had magic on his side and was in complete co-operation with Merlin. Together they would take Sigan down!

 

*****

 

On the drive up to London, the two friends rehearsed their dialogue and their actions for the coming meeting with Sigan till both were almost engraved on their souls. There could be no room for error.

 

Of course, Arthur would have to take centre stage with Merlin much in the background. Although Sigan would recognise Arthur from the past, he knew the young man was completely without magic, but the same could not be said for Merlin. Sigan would remember how Merlin had tricked him in the courtyard of Camelot Castle and there was no way he would allow himself to be fooled again.

 

It was down to Arthur to persuade the sorcerer he'd come alone; that he'd chosen to slip the bonds of his employee’s protection to face a business rival on his own. After all, it shouldn't be too hard to convince Sigan that Arthur believed he was only facing Mark Cornwallis, or so they both hoped. If they could catch Sigan off guard and they could work strictly in unison, they could entrap the arrogant sorcerer in much the same way Merlin had all those years ago.

 

Failure wasn't an option. If Sigan triumphed he could bring untold destruction to these islands. However, to eliminate the sorcerer, Merlin and Arthur must act as one... two sides of a single coin.

 

*****

 

By early evening, they'd arrived in London where Arthur drove straight to the Penderel home in Knightsbridge and, after garaging the car, they ordered a takeaway from Arthur's favourite Mexican restaurant.

 

“You're savouring that almost as if it was your last meal,” Merlin remarked, sitting opposite Arthur who was lounging on the sofa with an array of cartons spread out on the coffee table in front of him.

 

Arthur shrugged and mumbled as he chewed his food. “Who knows! Maybe it will be if we can't get our act together. I don't suppose Sigan's going to take too kindly to us trying to imprison him.”

 

Merlin popped a barbecued prawn into his mouth, before sampling one of the scallops. “Oh, ye of little faith. Haven't we gone over it about a thousand times on the drive up here... not to mention it's been in the planning stage for days? Mind you, I'm glad you suggested having dinner first. This seafood is to die for!”

 

“Nice choice of metaphors, Merlin!” Arthur pointed his fork at his gangly friend. “But, please, eat! You could do with fattening up. Besides, your stomach rumbling at the wrong moment later might be a complete give-away.” Suddenly, Arthur lost his desire for food and picked half-heartedly at the last of the dishes. “You know, if this was in Camelot days, I'd insist we check out Sigan's lair before we face him.”

 

“That's not a bad idea.” It was Merlin's turn to talk with his mouth full. “And I suppose that's not impossible, though hotel security might be a bit of a hindrance.”

 

“True, but don't you have a cloak of invisibility or something?”

 

“Hey, I'm not Harry Potter. I practise proper magic!”

 

“You're no fun, Merlin,” Arthur moaned, wiping his lips with his napkin. “OK, I'll call the hotel and book us a room for the night. That should get us in without too much bother, though we'd best go incognito, in case Cornwallis sees us. How about one of those ageing spells? I know! You could be old Lady Dolma and I could be your carer.”

 

“Very funny! I'd prefer something simpler. Those ageing spells are complicated and I'll need all my concentration to help you. Isn't Cornwallis supposed to be out for the evening anyway? If we can get over there soon, we'll have time to take a look around without him knowing. I can trick the security cameras.”

 

“OK! Let me see if they've got any rooms free.” Arthur fished out his mobile, checked the hotel number and dialled. After a short conversation, he grinned elatedly at Merlin. “Right. I had to reserve a suite as their rooms are all taken and we were lucky to get that, so I'm told. However, it's one with an iconic view, so I'm hoping that means we'll be near Cornwallis's. His PA did mention a penthouse.” Arthur pushed the food aside as he stood up, checking his watch. “I'm going to get changed into something dark and I suggest you do the same, since you can't make us invisible. Come on, Merlin! Chop-chop! We've no time to lose!”

 

Long before midnight, with just a small travel case between them, the pair checked into the Park Plaza Hotel at Westminster Bridge under assumed names. Arthur used one of his debit cards which he kept especially for occasions when he didn't want it known he was investigating some shady business practices. Yet, regardless of their precautions, Merlin was sure the receptionist recognised the good-looking blond since she stared surreptitiously but sharply at both men.

 

“Well, there goes your reputation as a ladies' man!” Merlin said, without hiding his mirth when they closed the door to their rooms. “That receptionist knew you and she gave me a very peculiar look. Not to mention this is a one-bedroomed suite.” He'd wandered through the living area and into the bedroom where a silk covered king-sized bed took centre-stage in the room. He collapsed on the bed, giving a couple of bounces to test the mattress. “Very comfortable... and the décor looks just right for a secret love nest!” Then he curled up with laughter at the sight of his friend's sour expression.

 

Arthur threw the baseball cap he'd been wearing to hide his striking golden hair at Merlin. “You're kidding! She doesn't have an inkling who I am... and, if she was looking, it was just to admire my looks!” he finished smugly, though in truth, in neither of his lives had Arthur thought much of his attractiveness. If he was arrogant at all, it was more in his accomplishments rather than his appearance. He wandered over to the window and stared at the view, advertised as iconic. “Come look at this, Merlin. You can see right over the bridge to the Palace of Westminster.” And when Merlin came over, he added as an aside. “When this fight is over, I'll just revisit as myself with Gwen... and I'll book the Presidential Suite. That should sort out any misconceptions!” There was a short silence as the two contemplated the Houses of Parliament over the river with the tower that housed Big Ben, now renamed Elizabeth Tower, right at the end of the bridge. “You know, when I asked about the Presidential Suite, they told me the rooms were permanently reserved for the foreseeable future.”

 

“You think it could be Cornwallis?”

 

“I'd say that's a fair bet,” Arthur replied after a moment's contemplation. “It would appeal to Sigan's megalomania to have the showdown in full view of the UK's seat of power, especially if he's contemplating world domination. And just think what havoc he could wreak over there. The building's already crumbling.”

 

“Then I suggest we go and find out,” Merlin said, slowly. “We have to stop him, Arthur.”

 

“I know we have to! I just hope we come out safe and sound at the end of it. And remember, you're no longer immortal! You could get hurt, Merlin.” Arthur bit at his bottom lip before he said quietly, “I might kid around a lot, but you're kinda important to me...”

 

“Trust me, Arthur. You're not going to die and neither am I. The future doesn't have to mirror the past. Besides, we've both got too much to live for in this life, so don't go making any of these foolhardy brave gestures you were famous for. I don't want to have to tell Gwen she's lost you again.”

 

Arthur nodded solemnly. “I promise, but the same goes for me having to tell Freya. Be careful yourself, Merlin!”

 

 

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this week. I do hope you are happy with my lead up to the final confrontation. I'd love to know your thoughts.


	45. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur have finally reached their end of this particular road, but will their quest be successful?
> 
> There are both telepathic speech and spells in this chapter. Telepathy is written in italics and spells shown in bold. I think there is one spot where I use both. Once again, I referred to the very helpful Merlin's spells site to create the spells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted this chapter in a bit of a rush, so please forgive me if there are any typos or mistakes. 
> 
> My husband was admitted to the hospital of Friday morning and my head has been in a bit of a spin since. I'm about to visit him again, so I'm rushing with this post so I don't disappoint my readers. Please enjoy...

Chapter Forty-Five

 

Checkmate

 

As Arthur had hoped, their suite was on the penultimate floor, just below the penthouses where a luxury apartment and the Presidential Suite were housed. With less than half an hour to go till Arthur's meeting with Cornwallis, they stole up the deserted staircase like thieves in the night, to familiarise themselves with Sigan's lair. Time to find Merlin somewhere to hide where he could shield himself from the sorcerer's magical senses, but where he would have a clear line of sight to Arthur and the enemy. It would be Arthur's job to manoeuvre Sigan into the correct place.

 

“I wish we could paint an 'x' on the floor,” Arthur remarked casually. They'd thoroughly checked out the interior of the suite before emerging onto the roof terrace.

 

“Maybe we should have chosen somewhere inside for our ambush.”

 

“Nah! If I remember correctly from Camelot, Sigan liked high places. Besides, I feel he'll want to take me down in full view of Westminster.”

 

“That's true. He weaved his sorcery from the rooftops of the Citadel.” Merlin swept the area with his mind's eye, though it had to be said there was little garden furniture around, apart from a table and chairs and some planters. “At least, there are no gargoyles up here for him to bring to life, though there are those stone leopards.” Merlin nodded towards the patio doors where two statues of the feline predators stood guard.

 

“Can you put a spell on them to prevent that happening?”

 

Merlin thought for a moment before replying. “I'm not sure that's a good idea. Sigan's clever... sly. He'd sense they were enchanted, and we want Mark to think you're completely oblivious to his alter-ego and magic.”

 

“A piece of cake then!” Arthur announced doubtfully.

 

“Arthur, you'll think of a way. You know, you weren't a great king just because of your skilful sword-play.” Arthur grinned smugly at the compliment, though his face fell at Merlin's next statement. “Just play your naturally dumb self and Sigan'll be convinced.”

 

“Geez! Thanks, for your vote of confidence.” Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin's tease.

 

“Actually, you're a lot smarter this time around,” Merlin admitted with a cheeky grin. “But you've got to fool Sigan into thinking you're as big a dollophead as you ever were. Mind you, his belief in his own omnipotence should make it easier for you.”

 

Arthur began walking across the roof garden to the far corner, checking out the flowers which were growing in planters. “How about here?” he asked, reaching the end of the terrace. Whereas the smaller pots were planted with ornamental shrubs and annual flowers, the troughs where the suite terrace met that of the apartment next door were filled with much larger plants, probably for the sake of privacy. He recognised a few from his mother's garden, though he could never remember the names of the evergreens. However the variegated holly bushes were unmistakeable. “I think these are big enough and thick enough to hide you. You really want to be as far away from the doors as possible.”

 

Merlin joined him, looking just a little horrified. “Holly's prickly... not to mention the needles on these fir trees.”

 

“So? It's all the more unlikely they would be used as a hiding place. Look around you, there's really nowhere else where you won't be seen... especially if I can keep his attention focussed on me by the table.”

 

“And you think you can do that?”

 

“A minute ago you were persuading me I could. Now you're worried because you've to hide in a holly bush?”

 

“I just don't want to get distracted from our task...”

 

Standing at the edge of the terrace, Arthur's attention was suddenly diverted towards the ground. “Sorry, Merlin. I don't think we've any choice, and we've just run out of time. Cornwallis is getting out of a taxis right now. He'll be up here in moments.”

 

“He's early!”

 

“Not so much. It's just five minutes to midnight,” he announced, pointing at the famous clock face at the other side of the bridge. “Look, I've got to go. It's best I'm not here until after he arrives. Don't be a baby and get yourself hidden.” Arthur started walking back toward the patio doors, but he halted suddenly and whispered, “Merlin, I'll find the artefact in our luggage, won't I? We're totally bust if you've forgotten it!”

 

“Don't be an ass! Of course it's there. You'll find it in your belt pack. Don't you forget to bring it back.”

 

Arthur nodded and hurried away, though his voice reached Merlin's mind. _“Good luck, Merlin. Remember, be careful. Don't risk your life for mine... no matter what!”_

 

“ _Of course not! What am I? Crazy? And you save yourself if things go pear-shaped.”_

 

“ _Right! Will do.”_

 

Both men laughed as they set about their own tasks, Merlin to make a burrow inside the trees and Arthur to make his way back to his own suite. Neither believed in the other's assurances.

 

*****

 

While the reverberations of Big Ben striking midnight still trembled in the warm air, Arthur knocked on the door of the Presidential Suite. Moments later the door was opened by a formally dressed Mark Cornwallis. Clearly, his dinner had been a black tie occasion.

 

“Mr Cornwallis, I'm Arthur Penderel.” Arthur offered his hand, which was ignored, as he addressed the man in the doorway. “May I come in... and thank you so much for agreeing to see me at such short notice?” He hardly waited for permission before he walked past his host into the minimalist hallway and turned to confront his rival. “But I have something very important to talk to you about.”

 

“I know who you are!” the smaller, dapper gentleman snapped, looking anything but pleased, however, he closed the door upon the public corridor. “No doubt your threatened takeover of my company...”

 

“No! Well, I wouldn't call it a takeover,” Arthur admitted, dredging up one of his charming smiles. “Though I did have such a conversation with Annie Carr along those lines, I do think she jumped the gun. What I'm suggesting is more of an amalgamation. You see, Mark... may I call you Mark? I'm hoping we can be allies. I'm hoping you'll be able to help me save both our firms and perhaps the whole energy business.”

 

Mark Cornwallis appeared completely nonplussed, which caused Arthur's spirit to almost shout with glee. However, he had to stay focussed.

 

“I'm sorry, Mr Penderel, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about, or how I can help you.”

 

“You'll understand when I tell you, but do you think we could go outside onto your terrace... you do have a roof garden? I'd rather not talk indoors where we might be under surveillance. I know these hotels have modern security systems... Oh, and call me Arthur. I think first names are appropriate if we're to be working together. Is it this way?” Arthur pointed but didn't wait for an answer as he walked through the living area towards the patio doors.

 

“Mr Penderel, you'll forgive me for suspecting you've taken leave of your senses. Why should the hotel's security staff be interested in keeping watch on us?”

 

“Not them exactly... but they might have been bribed, or been coerced in other ways more likely. You'll soon realise if you let me explain.”

 

Though Mark still seemed very perplexed, he did follow Arthur. “Did you come alone, Mr Pend... I mean Arthur?” Mark was interested for a couple of reasons, but mainly to know if he were under some form of attack... and from who.

 

“Of course I did.” Arthur half turned back into the room. “My father is seriously ill... and there's no one else I can trust. Clearly Annie must have her own agenda, if she's spreading unfounded rumours about a takeover bid. No doubt she's also planning to take over my position as CEO of Camelot Industries. It was probably her idea to have me accused of being corrupt.”

 

“You're not?” Mark decided to play along to discover what Arthur had in mind.

 

“Definitely not!” Arthur said adamantly. “Someone paid these people big money to implicate me in underhand dealing... and who would benefit most from my name being defiled? Annie Carr, that's who!”

 

“Yes, I can see that.” Mark clasped his hands and regarded the distressed young man who was now trying to unlock the glass doors. Arthur Penderel was even more of a public school idiot than he'd ever supposed, which played directly into his hands. However, there was one more thing he wanted to know before he made his move. “And there's no one else who works for you who's trustworthy? Your assistant, perhaps?”

 

“Gwen?” Arthur decided to play the fool to the best of his ability. “She's a good secretary, but she knows very little about how to run a corporate company the size of Camelot Industries.”

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of Rhys Wilson...”

 

“What? Him? The man's completely off his rocker. And he's not my assistant. He was my geologist... but I'm beginning to doubt his credentials for that job.” Arthur abandoned the doors and took a turn about the room, wringing his hands together, while secretly checking the pouch which was cinched around his waist. “Please, Mark. Come outside and I'll explain it all. But if you don't want to know, I'll leave you alone and try to find someone else to back me up.” He looked anxious and ready to bolt at any second.

 

“No! No, Arthur. Wait! Please, don't be so hasty. I would like to hear more... and if you want my help, I might be able to offer it. But, if you'd be more comfortable talking out there, it's a warm night, so I've no real objections.” Cornwallis pressed his thumb to the digital lock, opening the doors and ushering Arthur through with what he hoped was an encouraging smile, while in his brain Cornelius Sigan was frantically making calculations. The possibilities were new and endless... “Shall we go?”

 

As soon as he was on the terrace, Arthur took a few steps away from the door and Merlin, hoping to turn Cornwallis's back towards the thick shrubbery where he hoped his friend was sheltering. He had to admit that Merlin had done a fine job as he couldn't discern a single sign that someone might be concealed within the greenery. Mind you, only the soft lighting around the door had automatically switched on, casting the end of the wide balcony into deep shadow.

 

“Now, Arthur, what's troubling you about your friend Mr Wilson?”

 

Arthur spun round to face Mark. “He's deranged! That's what. Completely.” He slid into a wicker seat by the long table. “Do you know he's trying to convince me he's a magician?” Arthur stopped to allow that to sink into a seemingly incredulously Cornwallis. “And not just one of these guys off the TV. He claims to be able to do real magic.” Arthur clasped his hands beneath the table top, his fingers edging toward his belt bag and its contents. “You look as astounded as I felt when he started prattling on about sorcery and how it had been used to create the turbulence in the waters on Easdale. I mean, I know they were manipulated... but by science... not magic. What kind of a fool does he think I am?”

 

“You believe Rhys Wilson was behind the trouble on Easdale?” Sigan enquired with just a slight edge to his conversation. This young sprig of the House of Pendragon was a bigger fool than he could have hoped.

 

“Why not? For all I know, he could be working for Annie Carr in her bid to become top dog of Camelot Industries -- a multi-national company. Just think what sort of power that would give them!” Arthur improvised to sweeten the pot for Sigan. “Mind you, I can't for the world figure out why Rhys thought I'd believe in magic. I mean it's all slight of hand and smoking mirrors,” he said on a derisive note. “But they're clearly up to something and it's my belief they're trying to shut down our fracking plants... though what they have to gain I haven't yet been able to figure out, which is why I've come to you. The way you've promoted Sigan Fuels into the FTSE 500 in such a short time makes you one very sharp cookie in my book, so I'm hoping that between us we can figure out what these crazy people have planned and how to stop them!”

 

Mark Cornwallis did not sit. Instead he stood at the opposite side of the table and studied his troubled visitor in much the same way as a cat does a mouse. In fact, it would be more honest to call him Cornelius Sigan. As the sorcerer's consciousness had risen, so Cornwallis's mind had slipped into oblivion.

 

Sigan had a choice to make. He'd been reminded by Penderel that Camelot Industries was a multi-billion conglomerate whose powers could influence almost every government in the world. How puny was Sigan Fuels in comparison! It was time for a change. Time to leave Cornwallis behind and he wouldn't be sorry. The man was too pompous, too carping and too foolish to know he'd never been in control. The strutting peacock had thought he'd shared an equal partnership with Cornelius Sigan. He'd soon realise differently as he sank back into obscurity once Sigan vacated his body, if he survived the experience at all.

 

However, the sorcerer had to admit that Arthur Penderel might be made of stronger fibre and he'd probably put up a fight, since he refused to recognise the existence of magic. Well, he would be taught the error of his ways before Sigan possessed him. Internally, the sorcerer laughed at the irony. It would give him great satisfaction to use Arthur to gain ascendancy over Albion since it had been the Pendragons who'd deprived him of it so many centuries ago... And at his second attempt to gain control, when he'd used that sneak thief as a vessel, he'd been thwarted by the boy, Merlin!

 

Merlin! Sigan had to make sure Merlin wasn't in a position to interfere. “And where is Mr Wilson now?”

 

Arthur shrugged. “How should I know? I dumped him; told him I no longer required his idiotic services. The last I saw of him was in Cardiff, before I drove up to London to meet you.”

 

“And he didn't follow you?”

 

“Why should he? In fact, he was thoroughly pissed off when I dismissed him, but what did the guy expect?” Arthur sat back and frowned. “Come on, Mark! Please don't start acting like you believe Wilson is anything more than a fruitcake. Magic! It doesn't exist!”

 

“Hmmm...” Sigan's consideration was drawn out. “Perhaps truth is stranger than fiction and leaving your ex-colleague behind wasn't a wise decision on your part Arthur Pendragon. Now you've no protection.”

 

Arthur's blue gaze froze, but not in shock as Sigan presumed, but because he realised the sorcerer was taking the bait. “Pendragon?” he repeated, pretending Sigan's latter statement hadn't registered. “What are you talking about. My name is Penderel! Arthur Penderel!”

 

“In this lifetime... yes, but didn't Emrys tell you about your past?”

 

“Emrys? Who the hell is he?” Arthur asked, then the feigned penny dropped. “Oh, you mean Wilson? According to him he has a number of aliases. And, yes, he mentioned incarnation a few times along with magic... but I don't believe in that either!”

 

“And yet you were once the legendary King Arthur and with my...” Sigan paused, wondering how best to explain taking possession of another's body without said body jumping off the roof in fear. For the moment, he decided to prevaricate. “With my guidance you can once more ascend your throne.”

 

“King Arthur? My throne? Good God! You're as delusional as Rhys.” Arthur stood up, his head held high, his back straight. “I came here to ask for your help... practical help, but I see I'm wasting my time. I won't trouble you any longer, Mr Cornwallis. Good night and you won't be hearing from me again!”

 

As he turned to march towards the still open doors, he heard Sigan chanting. His battle instincts stirred, yet he had little idea from where he'd be attacked. Seconds later, he realised and wished he hadn't.

 

“ **Berbay odothay arisan quicken.”** Sigan stretched out his arms in an imperious gesture. As he incanted again, the air seemed charged with electricity. “ **Berbay odothay arisan quicken.”**

 

The first warning of danger that reached Arthur was an almost feral growl, low and menacing. The stone leopards on each side of the door seemed to ripple, their shapes changing, becoming sleek... lithe blood and muscle as they stepped from their plinths. Arthur backed up towards the table he'd just left. The large spotted cats stalked him, their eyes glowing yellow in the night, their sharp canine teeth bared in a snarl.

 

“Fuck! Cornwallis!” Arthur shouted in fear, which wasn't all pretence. “What the hell are you doing? Call them off!”

 

He'd reached the table and grabbed a chair, holding it before his body like a shield. He couldn't take his eyes off the predators which seemed to be sizing up their next meal, yet he was fairly sure they wouldn't attack. Sigan couldn't afford to let that happen. But in his peripheral vision, he saw the bushes part and Merlin's white face appeared; the warlock ready to defend him to the death... as always.

 

“ _No, Merlin!”_ Arthur risked calling to his friend with his mind, hoping Sigan was too intent on taunting him to overhear the telepathic conversation. _“He's trying to scare me, but he won't hurt me. He's already taken the bait. He needs my body intact. Stick with the plan!”_

 

Cornelius's next words proved Arthur's point. “Don't worry, Arthur. I won't let them maim you... not much. But I couldn't resist showing you how wrong you are. There is such a thing as sorcery. It's entwined in the very fabric of the earth and it has been since the dawn of time.” Sigan moved to stand in front of Arthur as he waved a hand over his ferocious pets, calming them. “And I am the greatest sorcerer who ever lived...”

 

“What? Mark Cornwallis?” Arthur forced a scornful laugh. “I doubt that.”

 

“My name is Cornelius Sigan and it was I who built the ancient citadel of Camelot. Cornwallis is merely a body I'm using to regain my place in the world.”

 

Arthur rested the back legs of the chair on the ground, yet he kept it firmly between himself and the leopards. “What's wrong with using your own body?”

 

“I was betrayed, put to death by your ancestors, but now you are going to help in my triumphant rebirth, Arthur Pendragon,” Sigan said expansively.

 

Boy! This Sigan was a vainglorious prick. “Why the hell would I help you? I'm still not convinced you haven't hypnotised me and all this is just a crazy dream.”

 

“Believe me, it's real and I've waited thousands of years to be revenged on your bloodline. I couldn't have planned a more satisfying outcome.” He smiled viciously. “I'm going to take over your body, Arthur, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. You're helpless against my sorcery. Oh, you'll know that you've been possessed, at least, for a short time, but very soon I'll subjugate your consciousness completely and Arthur Penderel will be no more. If it's any consolation, it won't trouble you for long.”

 

In both his lives, Arthur had been blessed with more than his fair share of courage, yet he couldn't deny Sigan's icy stare chilled him to the bone. His knuckles tightened on the chair back, using the black wicker-work to mask his free hand as it clasped the stone which lay hidden inside the leather pouch.

 

Jesus! What if this didn't work? He'd be lost to Sigan for the rest of his life... What would happen to his family... to Gwen? Sigan would try to manipulate them. Would he use Gwen for his own pleasure? He felt sick to his stomach at that thought.

 

Never! He refused to contemplate failure. Their plan would succeed. It had to! Merlin wouldn't abandon him. Arthur had every faith in the strength of their friendship. 

 

But Sigan was declaring again... “Arthur Penderel! I will become you and your position will be harnessed to my will!”

 

Hidden from sight, Arthur freed the jewel, holding onto it for dear life.  _“Merlin!”_ he shouted silently.  _“Now would be a good time!”_

 

“ _Hold hard! Wait, but be ready.”_

 

The body of Mark Cornwallis fell like a rag doll to the tiled ground and there was a low moaning coming from deep in his chest. Almost imperceptibly at first, a thin trail of vapour escaped from his open mouth, glowing unearthly silver-blue in the still night air. The trail slithered low, though not touching the ground, towards Arthur. He took an involuntary step backwards but, like a snake, it reached his feet.

 

“ _Now!”_ Merlin cried, desperation straining his noiseless voice.

 

Together, in complete harmony Merlin and Arthur chanted in their minds' voice as the malevolent spirit snaked up Arthur's body.

 

“ _ **Ic thin sawol her beluce, abide thaet ic the alyse.”**_

 

“Again!” Merlin yelled, stepping from his hiding place and no longer using telepathy.

 

“ **Ic thin sawol her beluce, abide thaet ic the alyse.”**

 

Merlin watched in horror as Sigan's soul writhed about Arthur's fair head. He moved almost with the speed of light to Arthur's side, still chanting the spell; still encouraging his friend with all the power of his will to accompany him.

 

“ **Ic thin sawol her beluce, abide thaet ic the alyse.”** Arthur barely whispered as he collapsed into Merlin's arms.

 

Suddenly, the evil gaseous spiral disappeared. Silence fell over the tableaux on the roof. A few feet away, Mark Cornwallis's limbs jerked a couple of times before lying still, while Merlin struggled to hold his friend erect. With some difficulty he forced Arthur into the seat he'd so bravely used as a shield. The leopards had turned back to stone, though how they would explain the animals changed position, Merlin had no idea and for the moment he couldn't give a damn.

 

“Arthur!” he said again, giving his friend a shake. Merlin was heavy of heart... and so afraid. Was Arthur still himself, or had Sigan succeeded in possessing him? Was this how Gaius had felt when he'd walked across the courtyard to find Merlin so long ago? “Arthur, answer me!”

 

But Arthur remained motionless... as if he too had become petrified... as if the whole world was frozen in time. Panic seized Merlin by the throat. “Arthur, please, come back!”

 

Slowly, Arthur turned and regarded the dark-haired man, kneeling by his side. There was a blackness in Arthur's gaze that struck fear into Merlin's soul... then Arthur seemed to awaken from his trance, his eyes returning to their normal electric-blue colour.

 

“We did it, Merlin!” he said, scarcely believing. It was just like old times when they'd fought magical monsters; Saxons and brigands; Morgause and Morgana... but he wouldn't go there. Instead, he threw back his head and whooped. “We did it!”

 

“You're sure? You're definitely you?” Merlin was almost too worried to hope. “Sigan isn't lurking somewhere inside you?”

 

In answer, Arthur held aloft the heart-shaped jewel he'd been cradling, only it was no longer clear. It sparkled, reflecting darts of light across the terrace... and blue as Arthur's eyes. This was the sign that Sigan's soul had been returned to its cage.

 

At once, they were both standing, sharing a bear-hug and laughing with relief and joy. Together they had defeated one of the most powerful sorcerers to ever live in this land of Albion, one who refused to remain dead. After a long moment, Arthur found his voice again.

 

“Merlin, after we return this heart to the tomb, collapse the cavern. Bury this son-of-a-bitch under that hill forever.”

 

“But if we do that, we'll endanger Camelot!”

 

“Camelot is gone; a civilisation from a time long past which no one believes in anymore. She's a myth.” Arthur stood back, looking out over the parapet of the roof garden at the present world. There was a glint of a tear in his eye. “I've fond memories of her... but, with hindsight, sadly I realise Camelot wasn't as utopian as I believed. No good would come of resurrecting her. I think we should learn our lessons from what's gone before and look to the future. Don't you?”

 

Merlin nodded his head... almost a bow, but he smiled with all his being. “Then the prophecy has been fulfilled... The Once and Future King.”

 

Arthur gave a mock groan. “Hardly a king, Merlin.”

 

“Perhaps not in name... Just promise me you won't become an arrogant clotpole again!”

 

“Merlin!” Arthur's hand shot out to swipe at Merlin's head... only in this day and age he missed. They were no longer king and servant. They were now and always would be the closest of brothers. “I doubt that'll happen. But if it did, I've always got you to pull me back into line!”

 

There was another groan from the man on the ground, prompting Arthur to ask, “Is Cornwallis OK?”

 

Merlin bent down and felt for a pulse. “I believe so, though he'll probably wake up with a king-sized headache and wonder what he's doing here. I doubt he'll have any memories of Sigan.”

 

“And the leopards?”

 

There was a flash of gold from Merlin's eyes and with a twitch of his wrist, the statues were again sitting on their plinths.

 

“Impressive.” Arthur said, smiling. “Remind me never to get on your wrong side.”

 

“Arthur, I wouldn't...”

 

“No? Not ever?” Arthur's eyebrows rose.

 

A wide grin spread across Merlin's face. “Well, maybe just a little spell... but you'd have to do something really, really bad.”

 

“Merlin!” Again Arthur lunged at Merlin, who skipped out of his reach.

 

“Hey! I was only joking!” Yet, for a second or two, all banter disappeared as the two men looked at each other, acknowledging the bond between them. Finally, Merlin spoke. “Come on, Arthur. Let's go home. We've two very impatient women waiting for us and I can't wait to see Freya.”

 

Arthur's eyes twinkled. “And I Gwen! I'm hoping she'll agree to marry me soon.” He smiled at the thought before sobering again. “Mind you, I'm also anxious to find out how Drew and my father are faring. I'm pretty sure Dad won't be able to return to work... and Annie's made it clear she's only standing as CEO on a temporary basis, which means I've a whole lot of new responsibilities to shoulder.” Arthur turned directly to his friend. “We did well tonight, Merlin, and I couldn't have done it alone. That's why I'd like you to stay with Camelot Industries but as my equal partner. I know the problems on Easdale were falsified, but I believe our greed for energy is tearing this earth apart. Perhaps it's already too late, but will you help me try to put things right?”

 

“Why do you think I'm here?”

 

“To annoy me?” For a fleeting second, they shared a rueful grin. “Seriously though, I might not say this too often, but thank you for finding me again!”

 

“It was my pleasure,” Merlin said, and he meant every word. He might have lost his immortality, but that had often proved a burden rather than a blessing. Though his survival was less certain now, his life was infinitely richer. He had a woman he loved and who loved him in return. It seemed he also had a career and a purpose to help the brother who'd once been taken from him. After fifteen hundred years, his days spent in the wilderness were finally over.

 

Together they left the scene of their battle with the ancient sorcerer, happy to be returning to their family and friends and content in the knowledge they'd made their world a safer place... at least, for the present.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you've enjoyed how I rounded off this story. Perhaps it's not the complete end for me writing Merlin stories, but at the moment, I've lost my muse. Perhaps I will return to my intrepid gang. I know I'd love to, but I need to find the inspiration first.
> 
> I've kept my thanks to the end notes for all of you who've stayed with this story over the months it's taken me to post it. It's been lovely receiving kudos and expecially nice to read the very complimentary comments. I'd be totally delighted to hear from anyone who thinks it's worth letting me know if they did or did not enjoy this tale. 
> 
> But bye for now and take care everyone. I'm now off to visit my husband.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's the first chapter. As you probably realised, the characters have changed slightly to fit in with this day and age. However, I do hope I've retained the essence of the characters from the show.
> 
> I'd love to hear if you think I've succeeded and if you enjoyed the beginning of the plot. Thanks for reading.


End file.
